The Terrible Ideas Bin
by The Mad Mad Reviewer
Summary: Threads of writing, ideas, and beginnings I'll probably never use. Or maybe I will, if something percolates long enough.
1. Lily's Diary

**Lily's Diary**

"Mister Hagrid, is it?" asked one of the two goblins.

"Er- yeah."

"Instructions in the letter indicated the vault was to be closed. You will come with us to sign the paperwork for the vault closure."

"Er- right. Harry, come on," said Hagrid, motioning Harry to follow him.

"Mister Potter cannot witness the vault closure," said the lead goblin, his entire face impassive. "We will ensure Mister Potter does not wander."

Hagrid looked torn between duty and keeping an eye on Harry. Honestly, he wanted this over and done with as soon as he could, so he followed the lead goblin into a side office. The other goblin smiled at this, and looked up at Harry.

"Mister Potter, there is another matter to be dealt with now that you are here and alone." The goblin removed from his suit a simple, small leather journal. "Take this, Mister Potter. It was bequeathed to you by your mother, Lily Potter nee Evans. She had very specific instructions on it, Mister Potter." From within the journal he removed a folded sheet of muggle notebook paper and handed it to Harry. He read it.

"_Harry, keep it secret, keep it safe. Do not let anyone know you have it. Write in it only when you are alone. Lily._"

Harry stared for a long moment at the note, memorizing that neat, simple script, written with a pen. He folded the note back up. The goblin handed the journal to Harry, who placed the note back inside of it, and then placed the journal in his pocket. He would look at it later, just as his mother told him too.

0x0x0x0

It was, Harry decided, later. He was back at home, his aunt and uncle were hiding downstairs, and it was after nightfall. He took out the journal. It was plain black leather, with straight cut pages. All of the other books were rough cut, which made Harry wonder if the journal was muggle. He opened it, and realized it was a muggle journal. The pages were paper, rather than parchment. He could feel the difference between his calloused fingers. There was something else, about the journal. Something warm and familiar.

But it was blank. He'd hoped for something, anything from his mother, but a blank journal? He sighed. Wait, the note said to write in it… he wondered what would happen if he did…

"I wish I knew what I was supposed to write," he wrote. He lifted the pen off the paper, and then watched as the writing sank into the page. His eyes widened with surprise, but then again, his mother was a witch. Then new words, in a simple, neat script, rose up onto the page.

"Hello. My name is Lily. What's your name?" Harry stared at the journal for a very long time.

"My name is Harry."

"Harry James Potter?" wrote back the diary.

"Yes."

"It's me, Harry. Your mother, Lily. How young were you when I died?"

Harry stared at that statement for a very long time, before he wrote it down.

"Fifteen months. I didn't even know you were a witch until Hagrid got me. I'm going to Hogwarts, soon!" wrote back Harry.

"You didn't know?" wrote back Lily. "Who raised you?"

"Petunia."

The entire page seemed to turn black, like whoever was writing spilled a bottle of ink over it, before it sunk back into the page.

"Who put you there?" was finally written back. The writing was much neater, simpler.

"Hagrid said he carried me there," wrote back Harry. He was curious why his mother was like this. After all, didn't she place him there? She started asking him questions about how he was raised. The page turned black a few times, and stayed that way for several long minutes after he wrote about the cupboard. It was getting dark, but Harry could definitely see that his mother's writing was getting choppier and more hurried.

"Are you angry at me?" he finally wrote.

"NO," was the immediate response, written in big letters. "I love you."

Harry stared at those three words for a very long time, tears forming in his eyes, and dropping onto the page.

"Harry, it's getting late. Get some sleep. Put the journal under your pillow," she wrote again, after the watery tears had faded into the page.

"Ok," he wrote back, closing it and placing it under his pillow. He couldn't let go of it, he thought it was all a dream, today. Learning about his parents, learning about the wizarding world, and… and a talking diary made by his mother. How could he not think it was all a dream, as he drifted off to sleep.

During the night, he heard someone in his room, and felt someone sit on the bed.

"Hello, Harry," said a woman's voice. He recognized it, on some level. It felt familiar, even if it was so sad and broken.

"Who…" started Harry, as he sat up. It was so dark, in the room, but then it was lighter, and he could see the woman sitting on his bed. She looked so sad, small tears brimming at her emerald green eyes. Eyes that he knew looked like his. His eyes, that looked so much like his mother's.

"M-mum?" asked Harry.

She nodded, unable to speak. He sat there, unsure of what to do, as his mother moved forward, and he seized up as she took him into a hug. A hug. She hugged him, and kissed his forehead, and she started to cry.

"W-what did I do wrong?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Lily. "I just haven't seen you in ten years, Harry. Ten years of waiting, hoping I'd never reach you, and hoping I did."

"Is… is this a dream?" asked Harry, as Lily pulled back, her hands on his shoulders. It felt… strange, to be touched by someone, and not be hurt by it.

"It is," said Lily, smiling. "But it isn't your dream, though. It's _our_ dream. Sleep with the book under your pillow, and you'll always dream with me."

Harry nodded, trying his hardest to stop the tears that threatened to come. Even if it was a dream, it was the best dream he'd ever had.

"There's so much I need to tell you, Harry. But for now, just… just stay with me. I want to… I want to get to know my son."

0x0x0x0

Harry easily walked through the barrier at platform 9 3/4, and boarded the train. The journal was in his pocket, and his Mother's instructions were clear.

Get to know Neville Longbottom, and avoid a bunch of different people.

Very easy instructions, but Harry felt otherwise. How was he supposed to get to know the boy? He was raised by wizards, and Harry… well… Harry wasn't raised at all, he felt. His mum told him not to worry, and that he'd do fine.

Small words of encouragement, there.

So he found a compartment on the train, managed to shove his trunk onto the rack, and sat down. He wanted to pull out the journal and talk more, but his mum had warned him not to. So instead, he took out one of his books, Potions, and began to re-read the first few chapters of it. Soon enough, the train started to move, taking Harry northward towards Hogwarts. His mother had told him, first and foremost, that he would love it there. That it was full of wonders and strangeness, and there was nothing she could say that would prepare him for the castle itself.

She did, however, prepare him for the classes.

He performed a few of the most basic spells, simple charms that showed he was, in fact, magical. He sat in his compartment, waiting for the train to reach the school. The lady with the carts came by, and asked if he wanted anything. Harry considered the flip-flops his stomach was making, sitting in his compartment, and thought better of it.

The lady smiled at him, looking a little sad, and handed him a pumpkin pasty anyways, before moving on.

He remembered all the occasional bits of kindness of strangers, random people looking at him and his cousin, and being nice to him. Looking so sad and pitying, at him. He never really considered why they did that.

A small, round-faced boy opened the compartment, looking so very sad and scared.

"Have you seen a toad anywhere?" asked the boy.

"No, I haven't," said Harry.

The boy cried about losing it, and Harry realized he had a chance to get to know someone.

"Do you want some help looking for it?" asked Harry.

"Y-yeah," said the boy.

"I'm Harry."

"Neville," replied the boy.

"Neville Longbottom?"

"Yeah."

"Harry Potter."

"Really?" asked Neville. "You've got the scar and everything?"

"Pretty sure," said Harry, lifting up the fringe of his hair, showing off the lightning bolt scar. Neville stared at it in awe. "Now come on, let's find your toad."

Harry wanted to ask about the boy's parents, but thought better of it. Instead, they walked up and down the train, looking for a toad.

0x0x0x0

"So what house are you in?" asked Lily. They dreamed a different room, now, one in Godric's Hollow. It was, Harry learned, the sitting room for the cottage. They never went up the stairs, and they never went near the front hall.

"Gryffindor!" said Harry. "The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, though. And my head hurt when Snape looked at me."

"How did it hurt?"

"Like... like a stabbing pain in my scar," said Harry.

His mother sat, deep in thought, on the one of the large, comfy chairs of the sitting room. It was, after all, a sitting room.

"You're certain in your scar?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"That worries me," said Lily. "I'm going to have to think on that for a while, alright?"

"Alright. Do you think it's bad?"

"I don't know, Harry. I doubt, though, that it's _good_."

She sat in her chair, staring at Harry for a long moment. He felt uncomfortable, but let his mother stare at him. She leaned forward, reaching out, and touched his forehead, running her fingers along the lightning bolt scar.

It felt like a jolt ran through Harry, and suddenly, there was a rather ugly baby in his arms.

"Er... what?" asked Harry, looking at the baby, wondering just where it came from.

Lily was too surprised to speak, as she stared at it, wondering just whether or not she was right.

"You're pretty ugly," said Harry, staring down at the baby. He cradled it in his arms, some part of him knowing how to hold it, even if he'd never done it before. "Where'd you come from?"

Lily was silent, as Harry held the child in his arms. If she didn't look directly at it, he looked so much like James, holding Harry. It pained her, to look at the two of them, to say what she had realized the _thing_ was. It pained her all the more when it coo'd in delight of just being held. She wondered, then and there, if an experiment could be conducted. And it made her feel sick, like Albus Dumbledore, to think that perhaps _he _had conducted the same experiment, only the other direction. That, and she wasn't sure how to get rid of such a thing.

"What's your name?" asked Harry, rhetorically.

"Tom," said Lily, recalling what she had been told. "I think you should name him Tom."

"Alright," said Harry, not _questioning_ Lily. And that was the worst part. She remembered how curious he was as a child, how interested in things, how questioning he was. Now it was all gone. She and Petunia were going to have _words_ at some point.

0x0x0x0

"He's mean!" grumbled Harry. He didn't shout at all, instead holding Tom gently.

"He can be abrasive," countered Lily. "What questions did he ask?"

Harry told her.

Lily stared at him for a long moment, before teaching Harry the duplication charm.

"It shouldn't be to difficult. The important part is getting it right." She walked over into the library nearby, and pulled down what looked like an herbology book. "Practice with this."

It took Harry a few tries, and a little encouragement, before he seemed to get the charm and copied a rubbing of a leaf onto the page.

"Duplicate that onto a piece of parchment, and send that to Snape using a school owl."

"Why not Hedwig?"

"Because Hedwig's recognizable," replied Lily. "This is a secret message."

Harry looked down at the open diary..

"How's a rubbing of a cinnamon leaf a secret message?"

"I'll explain when you're older. Just be sure to not look him in the eye, alright?"

"Okay."

0x0x0x0

Severus Snape looked at the parchment in his hands for a long moment. He glanced at Potter, who was paying special attention to his breakfast, then back at the parchment.

The problem was, he recognized the rubbing. Oh, it was a bad duplication, but he still recognized it. A master Occulemens had near-perfect recall, and this was something he could recall easily, even if he rarely wanted to. He'd spent a long time looking at the plates of this very book, and he'd compare it to his own copy once he returned to his quarters.

Dumbledore seemed to pick up on his hesitance, and queried if he was alright.

"Just an unexpected response," replied Severus. "It is none of _your_ concern." He tucked the parchment away, and ate breakfast. He'd speak with Potter later.

0x0x0x0

Hermione Granger had never had friends, before. Now, suddenly, she did. And one of them was... odd.

Their names were Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.

She wasn't sure how it'd happened, but one day Harry just walked up to her and asked if she wanted help with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not if _she _could help them, but if she wanted help. She was so thoroughly confused, that she said yes. And it turned out that Harry was a big help with Defense Against the Dark Arts. He always knew ahead of the lesson plans, and seemed to have a good understanding of the material.

Either way, he was really nice, even though she expected him to turn on her at some point. So she tried her hardest to be his friend back. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but that was what being a friend was supposed to be, wasn't it? Honestly, she had no idea. She was in unfamiliar territory.


	2. Carry on My Wayward Son

**Carry on My Wayward Son**

or

**Harry Commits Suicide, and Angst is the Result**

"What do _you_ want?" asked Petunia Dursley, glaring at the scruffy man on her front walk. Behind him was a pink-haired woman dressed in the most outlandish clothing Petunia would not dare to even look at.

"We're here for Harry," said Remus Lupin.

Petunia seemed confused as she stared at Remus, then back at Nymphadora, before replying.

"Is this some sort of sick joke by you freaks?"

"No. We're here to get Harry."

"Well, in case it wasn't already obvious, you can't have him. It's not like we _kept him_ here."

"You got ride of him?"

"Of course we got ride of him! We let the police take him and everything! Why would we keep him?"

"Why in Merlin's name would the police take him?" asked Tonks.

"Because he's _dead_?" asked Petunia like they were both idiots.

"He's dead?" Remus' voice was quiet, horrified. "How'd he die?"

"Killed himself. Took one of my good kitchen knives and tore up his arms, up and down. Stabbed himself in the belly a few times, as well. Made a right mess of my bathtub, he did. Least he was decent enough to do it there, rather than in his room." Petunia shook her head, disgusted.

"He killed himself?" whispered Remus.

"Yes! Didn't you know? How could you not know, sending your little freak letters by owl!" Petunia seemed to think for a minute. "Well, I suppose I didn't see any, this summer. Boy sent out his, but it never came back at all. Oh well, what can you do. Was there some other sick joke you wanted to play?"

"Harry's dead?" asked Remus, to stunned to even consider it.

"Yes! He left a note and everything!" Petunia turned into her house, and rummaged through some papers in a cabinet, before pulling out a framed piece of paper. "Framed it and everything. Glad to be rid of the little freak. Means you freaks won't ever come by again. Make a copy of it, and off you go. His things are in the cupboard under the stairs. I assumed you'd need to dispose of them."

Remus was to stunned to do anything but hold the frame. Tonks reached forward, and tapped her wand, duplicating the note, frame and all, and handing the original back to Petunia.

"C-come on, Remus. Let's go."

"H-he can't be dead," murmured Remus. He stumbled forward, pushing open the door and past Petunia. He stomped up the steps, ignoring the cupboard under the stairs, and into the second bedroom. It was clean, with fresh paint and a brand new bed. It was always this clean, but it never looked this… new. A new bed frame and mattress, a new writing desk, a new lamp, a new ceiling light. New everything.

He stood, broken, as he stared into the room that he'd only ever seen from the outside.

"Remus?" asked Tonks from downstairs. "Come on, we… we need to go. We need to tell the others."

Remus nodded, not realizing Tonks wasn't anywhere near him. He walked down the stairs, down into the hall, and Tonks took his hand, running her hand over Remus' head, even as Harry's trunk levitated over to them. They both took hold of the trunk, and the portkey provided by Dumbledore, and disappeared with a bang.

**A/N**: Not sure where I wanted to go with this one, and there'd be far to much angst. Harry, of course, isn't actually dead. He's got a Horcrux, after all, in the form of Voldemort. Hedwig was headed off to Hermione, with Harry's vault key and a note for the Goblins. He wanted her to take his money and run for Australia. Maybe he even visits her in her dreams after the fact. I wasn't sure on that aspect of it. The goblins, of course, refuse to release the Potter vault because, well, Harry isn't actually dead.

I was thinking the ritual would, eventually, come to pass. The servant would obviously be Dobby, while the enemy would either be LeStrange or a Malfoy. Or maybe Albus still has a bit of Elixir of Life hidden up his sleeve. Whichever has more angst, I guess.


	3. That Male Veela Thing

"So, I'm certain you understand the position we're in, and I would like to thank you, Mister Potter, for agreeing to this," finished Lucius. He was smiling, actually smiling "Who said I agreed?" asked Harry.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore stated you agreed to this," said Lucius, thinking what everyone else thought: that the boy was Dumbledore's puppet.

Harry glared at Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore doesn't speak on my behalf. No one speaks on my behalf. Why the hell would I ever accept this?"

"You would save my son's life, and gain the eternal gratitude of the Malfoy family."

Harry stared at Lucius and Narcissa like they were crazy. It was a rather long moment.

"And this Veela bond would work both ways, if I accept?"

"It would take time, but yes," replied Lucius.

"Would I still be able to father children?" asked Harry.

"You could adopt-" began Lucius.

"Would I be able to father children, yes or no?" interrupted Harry.

"No," said Lucius, realizing all was lost. "The bond would not allow it."

"Then I decline," replied Harry.

"Harry, you cannot truly mean that," said Albus. "This may be the only chance to redeem the Malfoy family. It would mean the death of their only son."

"Professor, my only goals in life, are to survive Voldemort, and have a large family. I want to have a supply of children, and raise them with kindness and love. You ask me to give that away to someone I hate, Dumbledore, and you're asking me to do it with a smile.

"No," finished Harry.

Lucius was staring at Harry Potter. He'd met the boy before, certainly, but this? He always saw Potter as the consummate Gryffindor. As Albus' apprentice. Willing to do anything and everything to save another's life. And now, Lucius knew he was wrong.

Potter cared only for the people he cared about, and no one else.

"Was there anything else?"

"You would condemn a child to death?" pleaded Albus on Lucius Malfoy's behalf. Lucius had to perform a doubletake at that. That Albus was pleading on his own behalf?

"Yes."

There was finality to that statement. There was no middle ground. The bond wouldn't work without consent. Draco would be dead within two years. He would waste away, even if he wished to fight it. Lucius knew Draco would. He was too stubborn not to.

**EDIT 10/28/11: **And now I finally understand the many and varied curses upon FFN's formatting, which I've now fixed.

**Author's Note:** My take on this whole "Male Veela" thing. Originally it was part of a Hufflepuff Harry story based on Rorschach's Blot's _Odd Ideas_ chapter 26: A Rather Depressing Scene. I got maybe a month into first year before it petered out. This was probably around fourth or fifth year. There's also a Basilisk Scene which follows:

The world faded away, turning white around him.

He heard, nearby, some sort of crying child. He stood up, and looked around. The entire place looked familiar to him. King's Cross, rendered in alabaster, for some reason. The child cried louder, and Harry reached down and picked it up. The child was deformed, but the eyes seemed familiar, somehow. He glanced back at the platform, and there was the Hogwarts Express. Why, though, would he want to board the train to Hogwarts?

"It's symbolic," came a woman's voice. She was standing quite suddenly on the platform, smiling sadly at him. "Stupid, given your opinions of Hogwarts, but there really wasn't anyplace better that you'd recognize."

"I'm dead, then," said Harry. He didn't phrase it as a question.

"Not quite," replied the woman. She had brilliant green eyes, and flaming red hair. It seemed... unreal, in this place, like her hair truly was flame, and her eyes truly were emeralds. "You walked into this fight expecting to die. There's magic that was invoked to save your life, and it goes with you still. This is a place in between. Get on the train, and move on. Or go back. Or... or you could stay. Like he did."

The crying baby got quieter in Harry's arms, and he looked once more at those eyes.

"Riddle."

"He no longer goes by that name, but yes. That is a part of him."

"Like the diary is a part of him."

"Yes."

"And there are more, aren't there."

The woman nodded, smiling.

"Who are you?"

"Can't you guess?"

"I can, but why would my own mother help me? Why would the bitch who sent me to the Dursleys help me?"

"Because I never wanted you to go to the Dursleys. We trusted so many of the wrong people, those days..."

"I wasn't supposed to go there?" asked Harry.

Lily shook her head. Harry thought for a long moment.

"A will," said Harry. "You and dad wrote wills. Albus is in the government, too. Chief this and supreme something-or-other. He blocked them, didn't he?"

"He did. He said it was for the greater good, but he did. Who would deny placing you with your remaining family? After all, Riddle had no family to be placed with. An orphanage made him become what he was."

Harry looked at the sad child-like thing in his arms.

"Albus fucked over Riddle, too, didn't he?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't swear, but... yes. Albus was terrified of Riddle. He treated him like a pariah. It only made him worse."

Harry ran his hand over the child's head. The child coo'd and smiled at him.

"We are what the Headmaster has made us."

Lily sighed. Harry stood, and walked to the train. He placed the child on the steps onto the train.

"This is as far as I can take you. I'll send along the rest of you soon enough."

The child giggled and smiled at him.

"Now, last I remember, I was bitten by a giant snake. How the hell am I supposedly supposed to survive that?"

"That's easy, Harry. By being a giant snake," said Lily, kneeling down and dragging him into a tight hug. Something unwound in him, and began bubbling to the surface. "Remember, Harry, I've always loved you, and I will always love you."

"Thank you, mother."

"And tell him he's a sanctimonious arse."

"Yes, mother."

Everything returned to darkness.


	4. A Smooth Criminal

**EDIT 10/28/11: **Seriously. What the hell, FFN. You've never given me formatting problems before. Why now?

**A Smooth Criminal**

_Well, not really, but it's a good title_

Harry Potter knew he was special. He could do things, that his aunt, uncle, and cousin couldn't do. He could make things happen, that they couldn't.

He once tried to talk to his uncle, and got beaten for it.

So he kept quiet.

And then, things happened by accident. Like finding himself on the roof of the school, instead of on the ground so Dudley and his friends could beat him up.

He got beaten for that, too.

So, rather than be beaten again for his freakishness, his abnormality, he decided to leave. He packed his bag one sunday morning, and walked out the door, hoping and praying to never be found.

No one found him for a very long time.

0x0x0x0

At the age of fifteen, Harry is amused by his last name. Everybody assumes it's a joke, not his actual name. He suspects the bobbies knew it's his actual name, but they never really bothered with him. He's a small time supplier and dealer, selling pot to the local school kids, and keeping out of any sort of trouble.

Well, except for this sort of trouble.

There were three large men at the door. He knew this, because he'd drawn a line on the door, and it told him who was there.

The Irish wanted him to sell to them, and they'd sell to whoever they wanted. He told them to fuck off. He liked smalltime, and they wanted bigtime. They'd sent someone to rough him up, and he'd stabbed the fucker in the thigh, and watched him bleed out, before calling the bobby's.

The bobby's had been very understanding. The man was a known Irish mobster. That he was dead was of no consequence to the bobbies, because he was an Irish mobster, and Harry wasn't a mobster. Just some poor, unfortunate soul who'd likely get killed by a few other Irish Mobsters in the coming week.

So Harry quickly sold all of his pot to a friend, told the friend to say where he was if anyone Irish came calling, and sat in his apartment and waited.

And now, here they are. He lets them kick open the door (it wasn't locked), and threw the first knife straight into the first man. The knife was American, an Army knife. He was sure they had a name and number for it, and the man he bought it from said it was from World War II. Harry learned people trusted him. It was rather stupid of them, he felt.

The knife goes straight into the fucker's neck, and down he goes. The man behind is holding a truncheon, and goes for Harry, screaming in a rage. Harry already has another knife out, same as the first. A dodge of the truncheon, and a stab into the man's side. Harry got lucky, the knife slides between the ribs. The man starts making sucking gasps, crashing to the ground, the knife still in him.

"You little shite," the third man growls. He has a knife, a big one at that. Harry, however, does not have a knife, and instead goes for his last resort. He makes a slashing motions with his hand.

It takes off the third man's head, and digs a trench in the wall behind him.

"Arseholes," mutters Harry. He's in the middle of searching the bodies when there's another knock at the door. This concerns him. He didn't feel anything from the line, and suspects this is bad. So he grabs his knife, and cracks open the door a bit, leaving the chain in place.

"Can I help you?" he asks, sweet and innocent. On the other side is a black-haired lunatic bint with crazed violet eyes.

"Are you ickle Harry Potter?"

"Who the bloody fuck is asking, you crazy cunt," replies Harry.

The bitch smiles.

"My name's Bellatrix LeStrange, Harry. And I smell blood. Why don't you let me in?"

Harry stares at the crazy woman for a long moment, before deciding its easier to kill her and clean up afterwards in the room, rather than in the hall.

She considers the pile of bodies in the center of the room, then smiles at Harry.

"Ickle Harry Potter isn't so ickle, is he?" she asks. Harry isn't sure if she's asking him, or herself.

"They decided they'd rough me up. I took offense," explains Harry, standing off to the side, still fingering his knife, ready to throw or stab. The bint is nodding at this, holding a stick like she's a conductor for an orchestra, and dressed real old-fashioned.

"How'd you like to murder someone for me?" she asks, staring at the pile of body's like it's the greatest thing in the world.

"No thanks," replied Harry. "I murder in self-defense only, thank you very much." They both hear three pops, like a car backfiring, outside. The crazy bint considers this something important.

"So ickle Potter's been found by Dumbledore's Order, eh?" she says. "Answer the door, I'll clean up your little mess."

Harry didn't like the bint, but had to admit she had class as she waved her stick at the bodies, making them disappear, blood and all.

"Hadn't finished searching them," grumbles Harry.

"Just muggles, Potter."

"They're Irish. Always worth killing, and they always carry their money with 'em. It's the French that aren't worth killing."

Crazy bint laughs, as she takes up position behind the door, then taps her head. She melts into the background, changing color into the wall.

"Neat trick," says Harry. "Think you can clean me up, though?"

He feels the magic pass over him, wiping away the blood covering his chest and hands. He sneaks the knives back onto his person, and kicks what he found on them under a chair as there's another knock at the door.

"Coming!" says Harry. He opens it a crack, the chain still up. "Can I help you?"

The man behind the door is easily the most garishly dressed faggot he's ever seen. No straight man would be caught dead in that level of eye-blindingly bright clothing. There's a pink-haired chick, and a man dressed in a suit that's definitely seen better days.

"Hello, Harry!" says the cocksucker. "I'm a friend of your parents-"

"That's nice, knob-gobbler. What's your fucking point?"

All three of them are utterly silent, while Trixie breaks out laughing.

"I don't think you need to be rude, Harry, my boy."

"Call me 'my boy' again, and I'll cut off your bait and tackle cock-sucker. You say you're a friend of my parents, well, where were you when the Dursleys were beating the shit out of me?"

"I hardly doubt they gave you any beatings, Harry."

"Then you're a worthless gobshite, and no friend of mine. My parents were worthless drunks who abandoned me to a pair of abusive cunts. Kindly fuck off, and never bother me again."

"Now, I hardly think that's true," says the old man. The bird and the scruffy guy are both sorta silent.

"You were left with Petunia?" asks the scruffy guy.

"Yeah. The giraffe, her bucket of shite husband, and her tub of shite son."

The old fart tries to draw his stick, but gets a knife in his arm for his trouble. The stick gets ripped from his hand, and winds up in Harry's own.

"This feels real nice, goatfucker," says Harry, handling it, feeling something connect with him. "Glad to have a stick of my own, you know? Anybody else feel like trying to pull something on me?"

The cling-ons are silent, staring in horror as Albus staggers to the ground, the knife jutting from his arm.

"Piss off, you old fuck. You take him, and get him out of my fucking sight, you hear?"

The other two grab the old man, and disappear with a pop. Trixie is laughing her ass off, now.

"You stole the old goat's wand?" she asks.

"That what it's called?" Harry points it at the trench in the wall, and watches as it repairs itself. "Oh thats real nice. I like this. I like it a lot. So, Trixie, what did you want, eh?"

"Oh, I think if you managed to do that to the old man, I think I want to work for you instead."

Harry thought he liked the crazy smile pulling its way across the crazy bint's face.

0x0x0x0

Harry picked up some chinese take-away for the pair of them, and Trixie explained just what the fuck was going on over dinner, and well into the night.

"So this mark. Your boss can contact you using it?"

"That's right, Potter." Trixie pulls up her sleeve, showing the skull and snake tattoo on her arm.

"Nifty." He points his brand new wand at the snake tattoo. "_Piss off_." He can feel the pull of the mark, he can feel it fight against him, not wanting to leave. He tries pulling it, and Trixie shivers in pain, so he changes tracks. If he can't pull it out, then he'll make it his instead. Rather than pull, he pushes, forcing his ownership of the mark onto it, channeling it through the wood and forcing out the skull of the tattoo. In it's place, his knife with a snake wrapped around it.

Trixie shivers with delight, and as Harry looks up… she looks different. Younger.

"Oh, that's very _nice_, Potter," says Trixie, as she looks at Harry with an even stranger glint in her eye. Harry recognizes that glint. He's seen it before, and he knows what's about to happen as Trixie tackles him, and begins ripping off his clothes.

**Author's Note:** You know… I have no idea where the fuck this was going, but I thought it was an interesting start. I think I was aiming for a Bellatrix/Harry pairing, and trying to figure out just what sort of person Harry would have to be to go for that sort pairing. I imagine it'd involve a lot of rough sex.


	5. Dumbledore's Lament

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _shit._

September 1st, 1991.

A date that would live in infamy, at least in Albus' mind.

It was the date Albus learned that everything he'd planned, everything he worked for, everything he'd expected had happened. The world was moving, inexorably, to the conclusion that he had divined from that horrible prophecy, from that horrible night.

And he hated himself for it.

Harry was shorter than his classmates, and his careful eye found him as emaciated as expected. The boy was clearly underfed, not that anyone noticed. He avoided the others, but had latched onto Weasley like a life preserver in a storming ocean. He knew the boy wasn't harmed, the wards had seen to that. Every strike, every blow rendered against Harry while within those wards was visited upon attacker seven fold. Albus knew they worked, because Vernon had once made the mistake of slapping Harry. Harry received a black eye. Vernon spent a week and a half in the hospital, his skull fractured. It was also the reason Vernon and Dudley were so overweight. Every scrap of food they denied Harry, they had to make up for sevenfold for the screaming pain of hunger to be sated.

Still, the torment was there. Albus remembered the open curiosity and joy and trust little Harry had displayed as a child. Albus fought to hold back tears as he realized he'd stomped it all out, crushed it all way, tore it up and spat on it in the name of the _Greater Good_.

Oh, how he hated that phrase.

Gellert loved it.

Albus used it, to keep himself humble. To remind himself of just what horrible things the _Greater Good_ could entail. And he looked at little Harry Potter, and knew that he'd just added one more sin to a very long list.

He wondered, sometimes, if Dante were right. He'd oft considered that question, and were it true, he only asked himself a single question. Would he be buried in Ice, or would Satan Himself chew upon his flesh for All Eternity? In the end, he realized it didn't matter.

He deserved it.

He'd tried to protect James and Lily. The Longbottoms, at least, had the fortified wards of their Ancestral Home. They'd only be attacked when the LeStranges and Crouch caught up with them visiting Edgar and Daria Bones. Susan and Neville were upstairs when it happened. Susan's brother, Nathan, was downstairs. Edgar, Daria, and Nathan were all killed, while Bellatrix tortured Frank and Alice.

The Potters didn't have an Ancestral Manor to hide in. They were an old family, but a normal, plain one, doing the best they could to do the right thing. No one could lay down the centuries worth of protections that the Ancestral Manors had in a few days, let alone a few weeks, months, or even _years_. Instead, he moved them to a safe house, and cast the Fidelious Charm.

And Sirius betrayed them. He'd cast the charm himself. Sirius had seemed nervous. Really, Albus should have realized what was going on. Sirius was nervous because he was ready to betray them. It was only a few weeks later that Voldemort came for them.

And Peter… Peter was more confident than Albus had ever seen. And now the poor boy was dead. Murdered, his body incinerated by Black's curse.

Albus agreed with Crouch, that one time, and locked Sirius up and threw away the key. Every other time he'd asked leniency, asked and demanded the courts give even the most basic of sham trials. It sent a dangerous precedent, but at that point, Albus didn't care. James and Lily were dead, and Harry… little Harry… he had a piece of that monster contained within him. Albus wrapped himself in research, trying to find some way, _any_ way of saving Harry from his fate.

Nothing.

So it came to this. This long, terrible gambit.

Albus placed his wand on his desk, holding his face in his hands.

His wand…

Fawkes crooned.

Gellert.

The first of Albus' Great Mistakes. It'd taken time, but at least he'd tried to fix it. He wished he'd been a braver man, and tried sooner, tried earlier. Instead, he hid.

He was considered the last great hope in defeating Gellert. The only man in Europe strong enough to face against him. Even muggle methods had been tried against him, mustard gas and rifles and bombs.

Albus knew it was the wand. The wand would not allow it's master to be destroyed by a mere muggle. To pass into the hands muggle would be impossible. It was the same reason Albus could not just kill himself, now that he had the wand.

No. Albus tried to face Gellert. He appealed to Gellert's sensibilities, to his love, to stop this madness, to stop the horrible march across the plains of Europe. He tried to find something, anything that would stop the man he used to (he tried to tell himself) love.

Their duel was still spectacular. Magic crashed across the citadel, the Earth was sundered, and to this day, no plant or animal lived upon that ground.

He knew he wouldn't win. Not against Gellert. The wand barely mattered to Albus. He knew Gellert felt much the same. The misery of the fight, on both sides, the understanding that it was going through the motions. That this would end with one of them a corpse, and the other in pyrrhic victory.

In his own mind, he railed against it, wailed to the four corners of the Earth that this should not be, that there should be some hope, some small sliver of joy and wonder, rather than the remorse and misery ridden final contest between them.

And in that final moment, where Gellert stood over Albus, his own hand wavering, Albus' wand a broken stick at his side, there was a burst of flame and song. Gellert turned, bewildered, and Albus took his chance.

The wandless _expelliarmus _was all Albus had left, but it was enough. The wand flew from Gellert's hand, even as Gellert was knocked away. Albus picked up the tool, feeling the wand grow disgustingly close and warm to his magic. He was master of it, now. It still left a bad taste in his mouth.

"And this is how it ends," said Gellert, their positions now reversed.

"No," replied Albus. "Not yet."

Albus stunned him.

Even then, he could not bring himself to kill Gellert. Instead, he was locked away in Nuremgard. The key was lost, thrown away, and Albus returned to England a hero, phoenix in tow.

The phoenix crooned a slow song, assuaging Albus' misery, but never his guilt. Instead, he stared at the Elder Wand, sitting on his desk, knowing he could never kill himself with it. No magic it would cast would ever harm it's master.

And then, a small realization.

Could it really be that simple?

Perhaps… perhaps there was hope. A small measure of it, but a small measure was always better than none at all.

He would have to test the boy. Shape him into the hero he would need to be. Already, the work was started. He would not break under pressure, for pressure was all he knew. He would not want for things, for he had nothing to himself. He would have the boy be willing to throw his own life away for others. Not a difficult measure, for someone with so little self-esteem.

Albus glanced to the corner of his desk, and looked at the words his sister uttered, in her madness.

"The greatest evils are not committed by monsters, but by saints. For saints believe it is for the Greater Good, and gird themselves in that armor."

He would never use the Greater Good as armor. He would use it as a bed of nails. And he would lie in it, every night, until the day he died.

He knew he would never ask Harry's forgiveness. He would never dare.

But there was hope.

**Author's Notes:** This is my actual of Dumbledore. The man who is focused on the Greater Good, and understands every single horror he'll commit in the process.

This needs a lot of polish before I'd consider it an acceptable one shot. Right now, I consider it "spit-shined."

**EDIT 2/4/12: **A little more spit-shine. Nowhere near enough polish. To short, not enough gravitas to it. Not sure what I can do with it, at the moment.


	6. Trapped in Fanfic: The Beginning

**Dislciamer: **I still don't own anything.

The pain was excruciating, but when wasn't it?

Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised. He was doing something supremely difficult. Why wouldn't it be painful?

Quiet filled his chest. His parents were out with his blasted twin. He'd made the damn foolish mistake of drinking the potion, assuming it'd be a quick, simple thing, and he could shift back and forth a half-dozen times to stabilize, and then have the rest of the six hours they'd be away of considering and meditating on his form.

No. Of course not.

He wasn't even sure what the hell he was. It wasn't overly large, it still fit in his room, but he wasn't sure what the hell had four arms, two legs, a tail, and saw something else entirely. He'd have preferred some sort of bird-of-prey, so that his eyesight wouldn't be the utter shit it was, but no.

The hearing, though, that was amazing.

He supposed he'd talk with Luna. The girl knew her strange, unheard-of creatures.

He had to get the transformation down first, though.

The worst was the second set of arms. They started on his back, and then shifted to the sides of his rib cage, as his ribs lengthened.

He supposed this plan had gone down the toilet. He'd hoped to impress his father. Instead, he'd gotten some sort of blasted dark creature.

He was back to human, and he'd have to change three more times. At least it was less painful each time. Or maybe he was just getting used to the pain. He honestly wasn't sure, at this point. He supposed he'd find out later. The strangest part was the boney plates on his face. The change in his eyesight was weird, but feeling the skin and muscle melt off his face was just outright disturbing.

He sighed, in human form, and began, once more, the painful and strange transformation.

0x0x0x0

"A deep dragon," observed Luna Lovegood. "The second set of arms were originally wings. It's why they're thinner. Vision is restricted to heat only, infra-red according to muggles. It's also the reason your body's cold to the touch, and has almost no scent. You have no breath weapon, and I very much doubt you even need to breath. Either by skill or innate magic, you are utterly silent. Your breath weapon isn't fire, however. It's heat. You can melt rock, and rumor has it you can also swim in it. You should also have some type of echolocation."

He returned to his human form, in a rather painstaking two minute process.

"Deep dragons are nearly extinct. They hunted dwarfs and goblins in the under-dark, only rarely being seen above ground. Extremely solitary, hostile, and untrusting, they are impossible to train, and mate rarely. They are difficult to kill, dangerous to everything around them, and cannot roar."

"So, basically me."

"Given your eyesight? Yes."

"Thanks, Luna."

"Your welcome, Harry. Do tell Andrew he's a worthless gobshite, and that I hope Voldemort eats him alive with a nice brown sauce."

"Don't worry, I will."

The blonde-haired girl smiled at him, gave him a peck on the cheek, and wandered away.

0x0x0x0

"Andrew,"

"What, Harry?"

"You're a worthless gobshite, and Luna's hopes Voldemort eats you alive with a nice brown sauce."

This stopped the Boy-Who-Lived in his tracks for a moment, as he stared at his brother.

"I imagine she hopes the stupidity of your flesh will poison him, thereby saving us all. Or maybe she just hates you. Possibly both."

Andrew Potter stared at his twin brother for a long moment.

"Either way, I promised I'd pass on that message."

"What crawled up his ass and died?" asked Ronald Weasley, one of Andrew's more annoying hanger-ons.

"Jealousy," replied Andrew.

"Honestly, some people," began Hermione.

0x0x0x0

Alastor Moody was a gruff, disgruntled man, but he was the only teacher to treat Harry fairly. He wasn't kind, but he actually called on Harry, expected the right answer, and wasn't surprised when he got it.

Moody started with the Unforgivables, and it only improved from there. Harry could throw off the Imperious, while his brother couldn't. He took it with a note of pride, although Alastor and Luna were the only ones who cared.

After Andrew was called forward for the tournament, Moody took Harry aside.

"Potter, if I'm right, someone is gunning for the Boy-Who-Lived. That means you'll be caught in the crossfire."

Harry nodded.

"Albus has his own ideas about training that arrogant runt. Me, I've got my own ideas, and I want you to start them."

"And you expect me to pass them on?"

"No," replied Moody. "I expect you to learn for yourself. Like I said, your brother's an arrogant runt. He'd never even listen to you in the first place."

"Can I bring a friend, sir?"

"Who?"

"Luna Lovegood. She could use some practice in defense."

"Bring her."

0x0x0x0

Andrew outflew the dragon. Harry paid it no mind, beyond watching the dragons themselves. Luna wasn't interested, after all, dragons weren't that unusual. That, and she preferred the dragon she already knew.

"Luna, do you want to go to the ball with me?" asked Harry, once it was announced.

"No," stated Luna, thinking a moment. "I think I'd prefer a nice empty classroom away from prying eyes and curious adults."

Harry smiled at that.

0x0x0x0

Neither of them cared about Andrew's performance in the lake. The pair of them were too busy with each other to care about it. According to the gossip in the common room when they returned, he'd managed to get some gillyweed and rescue his annoying friend Ron.

Moody was also becoming something of a teacher and roll model for Harry and Luna. He taught them curses and spells, and all the other sorts of things Andrew learned in his training. He also taught them things their parents should have taught them (whether because they didn't care or were incapable was another question entirely). How to look and act the part of the regal pureblood.

"It's about blending in," said Moody. He rarely said Constant Vigilance in private. "Always on your guard. But if you look the part, people stop paying attention to you. Then, it's easier to spot the people who actually _are_ out to get you."

Both of them understood Moody's reasoning.

He continued talking, teaching pureblood politics and etiquette, which both of them found amusing since Moody was so obviously removed from etiquette.

0x0x0x0

It was a long, and wonderful night, the night before the final task. Very sweaty, as well. She was very happy with the results, even if she knew Harry wouldn't be around much longer. He'd be back, though. Probably.

As they walked back to the classroom, Luna smiled and gave Harry a kiss on the lips, with lots of tongue, then turned into a lavatory.

Harry was walking on air. He never noticed the stunning spell.

Luna walked back out, smiled a sad and wistful smile when she realized Harry was, well and truly, gone.

If he wasn't back by tomorrow evening, she'd have to talk to her future child's grandparents. Then… then she'd talk to father about moving out of the country. America had a rather large supply of undiscovered animals, didn't it?

0x0x0x0

Harry awoke in a graveyard, a little after mid-night. A man he recognized as the "bastard turd fucker" was slaving over a cauldron big enough to boil a missionary. He was unbelievably groggy, and tied to something large, heavy, and hard behind him. He was only partially coherent through most of the ritual, a stinging charm woke him up as the bastard turd-fucker spoke "blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will renew your foe."

And with that, there was a light, and towering over Harry was gray-skinned, red-eyed monstrosity with no nose.

"Hello, Potter."

"I think you've got the wrong one," mumbled Harry. Both him and Andrew had a scar, but his hurt a fair bit right now.

"You are _Harry_ Potter, aren't you?"

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Then I have the right Potter. I have the Boy Who _Actually_ Lived."

"But… that's Andrew!"

"Potter, when I cast that killing curse thirteen years ago, I did not cast it on a brown-eyed child. I cast it on a _green_-eyed child."

"Dumbledore-"

"Is an imbecile. He had a fifty-fifty shot, and he picked _wrong_. Do you know why I came for the Potters, that night?"

"The prophecy, right?"

"Oh? Did they actual deign to tell you?"

"No. I heard James and Lily talk about it. Whether or not they were going to tell Andrew after second year."

"And did they?"

"No."

"Mmm. The long and short of it, Potter, is that as long as one of us is still alive, neither of us can die. Thus, I want you well and far away. Your wand, and your doom, Mister Potter."

Harry felt Holly and Pheonix feather pressed into his hand, and a necklace dropped about his head.

"Goodbye, Potter. I'll be sure to murder your brother for you. Perhaps I _will_ feast on his flesh with a nice brown sauce."

Harry felt the world fall away, until it came back. It was rather painful coming back to the world, as he was pretty sure he was a foot above the floor when it did.

**Author's Notes: **From here on out, it would be a fic involving a dimension hopping Harry, as he "learns to be a Hero," the "meaning of family," and that he "can't escape Fate." He'd also have to deal with the usual mixture of horrid fanfic cliches and tropes, and the occasional poignant horror.

And to answer people's questions, yes I'm still working of Jamie Evans. The finale is about 3/4s done. I won't give a due date, because I have an apparent love of watching them go whooshing by. The most I'll give is pretty simple: "When it's done.


	7. Samus Aran and the Deathly Hollows

Samus Aran and the Deathly Hallows

The Etechoons and Dechora were easy to get rid of. The Luminoth were happy to take them in, and Samus moved on. Except what was she going to do now? The Space Pirates were gone. The X and the Metroids were gone (well... for now. Who knew what the Federation had in storage). Granted, given the threat of the X, Samus could **almost** understand having a few Metroids in cold storage somewhere. But still, she wasn't sure what to do.

"So these are the hallowed halls of the Chozo, Lady?"

Samus was silent, staring out into the rain. Why here? Why did she come here?

"Trying to find something, Lady?" asked Adam.

"I think so," said Samus. With that, she left the ship, and headed for the Cipher. The long corridor, down the ramps, and out onto a platform that jutted out over a yawning chasm. Green, healthy life was already taking over the crater, slowly engulfing and rejuvenating the corrupt and broken ground below her.

So much had been corrupted and destroyed by Phazon, and now it was coming back... except...

She could hear the hisses of misery and despair. The Ghosts of the Chozo still remained, trapped, corrupted by the phazon even after it's final destruction.

"What do I need to do?" she asked.

The ghostly forms hissed, and drifted about her, and she watched as one scratched into the floor "WHERE YOU BEGAN."

She considered those words for a long moment. It still annoyed her, that the more important something was, the more vague the statement. Supposedly, it was to make her think more about what was being said.

So where did she begin? Zebes?

No, Zebes was gone, destroyed. Twice over, at this point. Which left only one place. K-2L. Where her parents were killed, where she was taken in by the Chozo.

Where she began.

Why there?

Well. She'd find out, wouldn't she?

"I'll be back, then," she said.

One leap to before her, and scratched into the wall "YOU WON'T."

She was silent as she ignored the warning, and continued onwards. She'd proved them wrong before. She'd prove them wrong now.

0x0x0x0

She landed on K-2L without incident. Whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, she was unsure. The wreckage of the colony itself was gone, replaced by forest and a few small wooden huts. She walked over to them, and opening the first one she came across, was a sight she hadn't expected.

"Grandfather," she said.

There was a clicking sound that Samus long ago learned to interpret as a Chozo sigh.

"Sit down, little bird. I remember the days when you called me Grandpa Bird."

"Those were a long time ago," replied Samus, taking off her helmet, and sitting cross-legged before the ancient Chozo.

"The ghosts of Tallon IV sent you here."

Samus waited. She learned patience from this old bird. She would use it.

"Yes, yes, yes they did. They knew I was here. They knew to send you to me."

"You knew the Phazon was coming."

"I didn't know," replied the old bird. "No. But I did watch it happen from Elysia."

"And you didn't tell anyone. Typical."

"Not my place, little bird. Not my place. I have my place in the wheels of fate, and you have yours. And yours is much more interesting than mine."

"Interesting? That's what you call my life?"

The ancient bird shook it's head, feathered covered jowls shaking and puffing out. Samus, when she was a girl, laughed at it. She hadn't been a girl in a long time.

"Humans have a curse. May you live in interesting times. And that is what we are here for. Time."

"Time?"

"I have spent much time attempting to undo the loss of my people, and all the fruits of my labor have revealed a single item lost in the history of Earth centuries ago. My only hope, the Chozo's only hope, is for you to unlose it."

"Me to unlose it."

"Yes."

Samus was silent for a long moment.

"Unlose it," she repeated, cautiously.

"Yes."

"And just how do you expect me to travel back in time to find it before it becomes lost?"

The Chozo clicked his beak with happiness.

"There comes a time in every warrior's life, that they must undergo the their greatest test. What passes them into legend."

Samus was tempted to argue she was already a legend in her own right, just from cleaning up the Chozo's messes, but held her tongue.

"It is a time, when a warrior is not know for the weapons they possess, but the strength of their own will and heart."

_Oh, no,_ thought Samus.

"A time, when you alone can carve your own destiny, and you alone can perform great deeds of human ability."

"I'm not giving up the armor."

"You don't have a choice," said the damn bird, holding out a pendant. It was a small grey stone, with two metal bands braided together forming a necklace to wear it with. "It can only take one thing backwards or forwards through time."

"Yes, and I am one thing."

"No. You are you, and your armor and your armor. Were I to use it now, it would send your armor backwards through time, and I assure you, that would do no one any good."

At this, Samus sighed.

"And that means only the item can be sent forward," added Samus.

"Yes."

"And you expect me to throw away my life for this?"

"Little bird, I ask you this. What life? What joy do you get from this existence? What wonder is there, in throwing yourself into battle after battle, in slaughtering enemy after enemy? What hope do you have?"

"You're a dick."

"Yes. But I am a correct one."

"You're always correct. That's a given. You're still a dick."

The bird nodded sagely.

"So it's going to be just me, a pendant, and nothing else to try and save your species."

"Yes."

Samus could not honestly think of a worse situation to walk into.

"The Pendant will place you where you need to be, Samus. That much I know. From there... you will be on your own."

"And naked, apparently."

"Yes. I apologize."

Samus took hold of the pendant, examining it for a moment.

"Consider this, little bird. You will no longer be a Bounty Hunter. You will no longer be feared. You will no longer be vilified. You will no longer be seen as the woman who single-handedly genocided an entire race. Instead? You will be Samus Aran. No more, no less. You will be who you make yourself. You will be able to make your own destiny."

"Except for sending this item forward in time."

"Except for that, yes."

"An item that you haven't told me about, yet."

"There is a reason for that."

"You don't know what it is, do you?"

"No. All I know, is that you will know it when you find it."

Samus sighed.

"Alright. Fine. I'll save you another twenty minutes of convincing and just go along with it."

The ancient bird clicked his beak.

Samus stood, and felt the suit slowly disengage itself. There was something uniquely freeing in being ride of it, for one final time. She pulled off the teal under suit as well, before taking the pendant.

"Just how do I activate this thing, anyways?"

"Intent. You must have intent, little bird. Something you have in spades. Also, there is a magic word."

"It's not 'please,' is it?"

The Chozo's beak clicked in amusement.

"No, little bird. It is 'Grandpa Bird.' Something to remember me by."

"You just hate me, don't you?"

"No, little bird. I have always cared for you. And I am sorry that I must give you this task."

"But if you're to save your people, then you have to," Samus answered.

"Yes."

Samus clutched the pendant in her fist, and looked to the Ancient Bird.

"Thank you, for everything, Grandpa Bird."

And with that, she disappeared.

"Always has to get the last word in, that one."

0x0x0x0

Poppy Pomphrey was rather stocking the potions cabinet, when she heard a thump, followed by an "Ow."

She turned to see a naked eleven year old blonde girl, laying on the bed, clutching her head. One of the Hogwarts owls flew in through the door, and landed at the foot of the bed, holding a letter.

Poppy worked at a school for magic. This sort of thing was blasé. She turned back to stocking the potions cabinet.

Author's Notes: I apologize in advance for the host of spelling errors in this one. I went over it with something with a spell checker, but it was first written in vi, since I need to practice with it. If you don't know what vi is, be thankful. If you truly wish to know, check wikipedia. They have a decent article, I'm sure.

I blame the fact I've been reading Fusion of Destinies for this one. I'll probably come back to it, though. It's too strange to pass up.


	8. Harry's Bizarre Adventure

**Harry's Bizarre Adventure**

Petunia Dursley narrowed her eyes as she opened her front door.

Certainly, the man standing at it _looked_ perfectly normal. He was dressed a tad lower class than she would have liked, in his polo shirt, jeans, and boots, with a heavy denim jacket and fedora. He even looked the part of someone who worked their entire life, as he filled out that polo shirt with broad shoulders and a chest that she might have stared at if he weren't her uncle. He had an easy, light-hearted smile that spread his well-groomed beard wide.

"Petunia!" said the man, and immediately wrapped her up in his arms, and lifted her off the ground in a hug. He put her back down, his smile becoming even wider.

"Uncle Joseph," said Petunia, her face breaking into, for the first time in a long while, an honest smile.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" he asked, in a voice that plainly stated this was an old argument.

"I refuse to call you that _nickname_. Now, come inside, come inside and have some tea. Is that grandson of yours still playing the delinquent?"

"Yes, of course," replied Uncle Joseph. "Holly was always overly rebellious, and I suppose it's moved on to her son. I heard about what happened to Lily. You have Harry?"

"Yes... I'd hoped he could stay, but, Lily's husband, James, was a bit of a prankster, and my Vernon, well... he can hold a grudge. I don't want that anger poisoning my home."

"I understand," replied Joseph. "Where is he?"

"In here," said Petunia, "with my darling Dudley."

Joseph kept his tongue about Dudley, but picked up the small, black-haired baby. He had a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightening bolt. And on his left shoulder, was a birthmark in the shape of a star.

"Well, Harry, looks like you'll be staying with your Great Uncle Joseph, eh?"

**Five Years Later**

"Harry, I need you to stay here, and protect Holly, alright? Jojo, Abdul, Kakyoin, and I are going to defeat the man making Holly sick, alright? But that means I need someone to stay here and protect her while we're gone. Can you do that?"

Hari Kujo, age 6, nodded.

"Good! We'll be back soon, alright?"

**Two Months Later**

When Joseph and Jotaro walked in the door, Harry smiled at them.

"Look! I even got someone to protect Holly with!"

Jotaro and Joseph's eyes widened in shock at what was behind Harry.

**Author's Notes: **I don't think I could approach the sheer madcap insanity of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. But holy shit do I want to _try_.


	9. Monsterous

"Er, Professor," began Hagrid. He was holding his hat in his hands, wringing the ratty and torn garment with some concern and nervousness. Albus knew to pay attention to Hagrid, because, quite simply, Hagrid didn't come to Albus for minor things. The last time Hagrid approached Albus, their was an unfortunate bit of business involving centaurs, Aragog, and a rambunctious nest of Acromantulas.

"Yes, Rubieus?" asked Albus, genuinely concerned.

"There's… there's something new in the forest."

Albus waited, knowing Hagrid took time to put together his words before speaking.

"Firenze says it ain't something to worry about, talked about how it was a shadow over Mars. Aragog says it's taken to hunting near the Black Lake."

Albus nodded.

"Any word on what it is?" asked Albus.

"No, nothing yet. Me and Fang have looked for it, but ain't seen anything yet. I've asked Aragog to keep a few eyes out for it, see if he can give me a description."

"Then that is all we can do," said Albus. "We'll want to know if it's dangerous to the students at all."

"Of course, Professor. That's why I came to see you."

"And I'll have a chat with the Mer-people, to see if they've seen anything."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

0x0x0x0

It was two years later, and Harry Potter's letter sat on Albus Dumbledore's desk, unaddressed and unsent. At first, he'd thought it was merely the wards on Harry's home, blocking even the spells of Hogwarts.

No.

The wards were gone.

When he'd queried Petunia on the matter, she said the boy disappeared some three years before, after the McKinnon murders, down the way. She'd reported his disappearance, and she was done with him.

When Albus asked why she hadn't informed him, her response was simple, but not very eloquent.

"And how was I supposed to do that, you blasted old fool? Do I own an owl? Do you have a box the postman can deliver to? How about a telephone number? Hm? _Get out_."

Albus had no response. He'd contacted Alastor about trying to get the records from the Surrey Police Department. Alastor would get back to him about it as soon as possible.

Harry's letter was written, and Harry's name was still in the book of records, but no address was written. Madame Hopkirk was subtly queried as to accidental magic, and found nothing. No owl would take a letter to the boy.

That lead to the obvious question, where was Harry Potter?

0x0x0x0

It was Halloween afternoon when Quirrell went into the Forbidden Forest to lead the blasted troll into the school. The thing was terrified at being left alone, but Quirrell couldn't find anything else on short notice.

At first, he thought the stupid beast had wandered off, and began looking for it, calling after it, before finally finding it.

Part of it, at least.

The troll had been ripped in half, it's guts thrown into the trees like festive garlands. Already, a number of that oaf Hagrid's thestrals were feasting on it, although how they could stomach such a meal was beyond even Quirrell's knowledge.

Voldemort growled something incomprehensible from underneath the turban. Quirrell merely turned, and went right back to the castle, plan foiled by the troll being too stupid to keep itself from being killed. There would be other chances.

0x0x0x0

Albus paid only a little mind to Hagrid's report about the sick thestrals, at least until he mentioned Troll meat.

"Our newest resident, perhaps?" asked Albus.

"No. Asked Firenze about it, he said there hasn't been any trolls in the forest since the centaurs took up lived there. Drove 'em out or killed 'em all back in the day. He says it keeps to itself, an' they think it keeps with the thestrals."

Albus nodded. A troll found two days after Halloween, combined with Quirrell's planned defense for the stone? Hardly a coincidence, Albus felt.

"Thank you, Hagrid. That answers a question or two for me, but raises more. Has there been any other news on the forest's latest resident?"

"Nope. Nothing's really changed. Unicorns, thestrals, acromantulas, nothing's really changed with whatever's out there. It keeps to itself, 'cept for the thestrals."

Albus nodded. Very curious.

0x0x0x0

Quirrell and Voldemort were, once more, in the forest. Quirrell's body was failing, burning up from the inside out thanks to the wraith contained within him, and the potions they were brewing were no longer able to sustain them.

Thus, a more powerful regent needed to be acquired.

Unicorn's blood.

Unicorns were fast and flighty creatures by necessity. They were intelligent, but they were not _cunning_. They did not know how to avoid hunters, human hunters, at least.

Quirrell knew the animal was running for the Black Lake. Perhaps the mer-people would interfere, but given the trail of blood, it likely wouldn't make it.

"_He smells familiar_," came a rambling voice from above them.

"Who was that?" hissed Voldemort.

"Who was what, my lord?" asked Quirrell, still following the trail of blood as quickly as he could.

"That voice!" demanded Voldemort.

"I heard no voice, my lord," replied Quirrell, hoping his lord did not punish him.

"_This little snake hears me?_" came the voice again.

Voldemort realized what it was. Parseltongue. Some snake he'd met in school, perhaps? His pet would not be awake.

"_Begone_," hissed Voldemort. "It was nothing," he said to Quirrell. "Faster!"

"_I think not, little snake._"

"Stop," ordered Voldemort. "_Who is there?_"

"_Death, little snake. You trespass, you butcher. Your stench was hidden on the green thing. I recognize you, little snake. You will die._"

With a roar, it dropped from overhead. Quirrell tried to move as quickly as he could, but the decay of his body slowed his movements. It was quickly upon them. It's body was shadow and mist, and nothingness enveloped them. Quirrell and Voldemort screamed in pain and torment as their body burned at the creature's merest touch, before a fist smashed their skull open like a over-ripe squash.

0x0x0x0

Bane looked up at the massive shadow that stood before him. In it's arms, it held an injured unicorn. The thing's tail was wrapped around the animal, pressing a heavy black clothe into the animal's flank.

It growled at him.

Bane wasn't an idiot. He hated humans, but for something to harm a unicorn? Unspeakable. The animal was docile in its arms. Clearly, this monster was not the one who harmed such an animal.

"Follow," ordered Bane. Firenze saw both of them soon enough, and ran to fetch Dumbledore.

The monster placed the animal were Bane commanded, and quickly turned away, back into the forest.

"The one who did this, creature," bellowed Bane.

The creature turned, glared back at him with its empty face.

"It is dead?"

The creature nodded, once, and went back into the depths of the forest.

0x0x0x0

Quirrell's body was found, and the DMLE quickly wrote it off as Unicorn poaching gone wrong. Or right. It depended on who you asked. Albus, once more, found himself scrambling to find a replacement teacher.

0x0x0x0

That summer, Alastor got back to him, saying he hadn't found a single thing about the boy's whereabouts.

He did mention something about a family murdered about the same time, but Albus waved it off as unimportant.

"If any other information comes to light, inform me as soon as possible."

Alastor just nodded, and stomped away. Sometimes, Albus was an idiot.

0x0x0x0

Lockhart was an idiot. An egotistical, sociopathic incompetent who clearly had either faked or stolen his credentials.

Severus, Minerva, and Albus were all in the Headmaster's office trying to figure out a way out of this, but neither Severus or Albus could find some loophole in Lockhart's contract to remove him from the building.

Granted, he hadn't discounted Snape's "accidental removal" plan. Yet. He really should, but… well… it was Lockhart.

Minerva, Severus, and himself would keep a _very_ close eye on him.

0x0x0x0

"Oh, hello. How are you?" asked the little girl. It was an early October morning, a little before dawn, and she was amongst the thestrals, petting the animals and giving them strips of fresh meat from the kitchens in the castle.

It stood on all fours, considering her without eyes, trying to comprehend why she was down here, rather than up at the castle.

She was dressed in a plain black cloak, but she was shivering. It moved up against to her, wings of shadow and smoke spreading out and enveloping the girl, pulling her up against the creature's body.

"You're very warm. Thank you."

The creature hissed in response. The girl soon stopped shivering, and fell asleep against the creature.

The creature was entirely unsure of what to do about this.

0x0x0x0

"You seem anxious," said the girl. Her name was Luna. She never talked about her friends, roommates, or classmates, but she did talk about her father. The creature was wondering just how it could visit her over the summer.

Her friend hissed, but lifted its snout and took two long drags of air, it's body filling out, armored carapace forming from the mists and shadows of it's body.

"Is it the Chamber of Secrets business?"

Upon seeing her friend's questioning look, Luna explained how the Chamber had been opened, and Mrs. Norris had been petrified. She watched as the carapace disappeared back into the mist of its body, her friend becoming his usual size of a large horse. Or a small moose. She wasn't very picky, because he was warm. And she was fairly certain he was a he. After all, one didn't study rare and usual creatures without learning how to tell the difference between male and female. Her friend was, she had identified, _very_ male.

Finally, at the end of the story, her friend shook his head.

"Could it be related?"

Her friend shrugged.

"There was some nastiness about one of the Professors last year hunting Unicorns. Is it related to that?"

A nod.

Luna hmm'd, then snuggled further into the warm body of her friend.

0x0x0x0

Two children had been petrified. Colin Creevy, and Justin Flitch-Fletchley, according to Luna. Her friend merely growled its annoyance.

He could smell something on her, a trace of what he was looking for, as well, as she talked about her friend Ginny, and how withdrawn she was. She asked if it was alright to bring her down, and he agreed, not really caring one way or the other.

0x0x0x0

The creature missed Luna over Christmas break, but kept to itself. It was a little certain that the hairy man (Luna said he was large, but it considered very few people _large_ these days) had seen it, but Luna had said only good things about him.

Besides, given how much time they both spent amongst the thestrals, it was surprising it'd taken this long.

Hagrid just looked at the creature, and got a happy glint in his eye. After all, the creature was both large and dangerous. Obviously, that meant it was one of the most beautiful and perfect creatures Hagrid had ever found.

Hagrid, naturally, named him Mort.

0x0x0x0

Hagrid stood in the thestral's clearing before dawn, hat in hand. His hands were worrying it in much the same way he once approached Albus. He was keeping watch on the thestrals, had already fed them, but he had other business.

"Mort?" called Hagrid. Luna didn't actually call him Mort, but she was amused by it.

Mort slinked into view, wary of Hagrid still, but curious.

"I've got bad news, Mort… You- you've heard about the attacks up at the school? Luna's talked about them?"

Mort nodded.

"Well… Luna… Luna's been attacked. She's in the infirmary, she's alive, but- but-" Hagrid fell silent. He stared at the creature, waiting for a reaction. It was still, silent, and then it started pacing for a long moment, back and forth, back and forth. It's body shifted size, sometimes the size of an oliphant, other times taking on the size of one of the thestrals that ate the strips of meat Hagrid was throwing out to them.

Finally, it stopped, and pushed itself onto two legs. It was a little under Hagrid's height, and began stomping (as much as it's quiet footsteps could stomp) off towards the castle.

"Err… you're not thinking of- of visiting Luna, are ye?"

Mort's empty glare called him an idiot, and Hagrid quickly ran to keep up.

"Well, err… just keep to the shadows, alright? Otherwise they might think it's you."

A snort of derision was the creature's only response as it stalked towards the castle. Mort avoided the castle, but followed Hagrid into the massive stone building, as he lead the way up to the infirmary.

0x0x0x0

While their were many scents on Luna, on _his friend_, only three were of interest. Namely, because they were on the others that were attacked.

He had discounted the matron. She was on everyone in the ward. Her presence filled the ward, and while it reeked of plants and ointments, she was the healer. It was expected.

He turned, Hagrid shouting after him, following Luna's scent. It was mixed, there were so many others, but he knew Luna's by heart. He could find it even in this mix and muddle.

And there it was.

The little snake, faint but there, and something else. Something as cold and inhuman as the little snake, but… larger. Grander and ancient.

He'd kill them both. He followed the little snake, Hagrid trying to follow, but quickly losing sight of him as he took off up the moving stairwells, leaping from stairwell to stairwell.

He slinked through the corridors until he reached a garish portrait of a large woman. The scent lead right up to it, he was so close!

He thought back to the unicorn, and realized what he needed to do. He went up the walls, and waited, gripping the large blocks as easily as the branches of a tree.

The first time the portrait swung up, he moved to follow the group of giggling girls headed from whence he came. He snarled, but kept it to himself, moving in that direction, hoping his prey went the same way.

It took an hour or two, and many more children, but a lone red-haired girl stepped through the entryway. She didn't have time to scream as he dropped down behind her, a massive hand over her mouth, a tail wrapping around her body.

"_Your fault_," he hissed.

She whimpered at the hissing, as he moved along the ceilings, eventually find his way into a disused corridor, scrabbling along the walls, clutching them with his wing claws.

"_Where is it, where is it,_" he hissed to himself, then took a long sniff, before pulling a leather journal from her bookbag.

"_This is it. This is the little snake. This will die, just like before. Maybe it'll even stay dead, hmm?_"

He glared at the girl.

"_What about you, though? Why'd you do it? Why'd you hurt Luna? Was it because of him, like he was part of the other man?_"

Ginny nodded, which confused him.

"_You understand me?_"

Another nod. He took his hand away.

"I found the book," she started, explaining how she found it amongst her things after shopping, and how she wrote it in, and how she woke up once covered in blood and feathers. How she tried to get rid of it, but couldn't think of how, and if only the Boy-Who-Lived were here, she'd be able to save her from this. He was supposed to be here last year, but Albus Dumbledore kept him hidden away, saying he was still safe, and being trained.

He listened, and considered the book for a moment longer. He then attempted to tear it in half. Ginny watched as the creature tried to rip and tear the book, attempted to just rip out the pages, then actually _bite_ the book.

After a few epithets, it stopped, and looked back at her.

"_Do you know what the monster is?_"

"No, except that… that… that I think it's in Myrtle's Bathroom. Or, at least, I wake up there every once in a while."

"_Show me_."

0x0x0x0

The ghost squeaked once at the sight of the creature, and ran, while Ginny stood. She'd walked there, slowly, and the creature had followed. It hesitated, a little, about entering the girl's bathroom, but it soon followed her inside.

"So… you're friends with Luna?" asked Ginny, finally.

"_Yes_."

"How is she? I haven't… because of that book, I haven't had a chance to see her to often, especially since she's in a different house and all. And… and now she's… she's…"

"_She doesn't talk about friends at all. I don't think she has any. Be quiet for a moment._"

She watched as it wandered around the bathroom, taking long drags of the air. When it wasn't, it was muttering rather unpleasant things about how it could smell whatever the monster was, and what it would do to it. Ginny wondered if her mother would try to wash out it's mouth with soap if it kept going like that.

Finally, it stopped in front of a sink, growling at it.

"_Here. It's right here._"

"Maybe there's a secret passage?"

"_Maybe. But how am I supposed to open it?_" Naturally, the entire basin opened at this question.

"_Stay here_."

Ginny nodded, and watched as the creature, as Luna's friend went into the shaft, searching for vengeance. It'd left the journal on the ground near the wall.

She sat down, away from the journal, and waited. She jumped when she heard the roar, the massive noise she felt in her chest, and shook the walls around her. She heard the echoes of crashes and rumbles, as Luna's friend and whatever Slytherin's monster was battled. She hoped Luna's friend was okay, but then she heard the shouting.

She tried to back away from the open pipe, as she heard Luna's friend's anatomically impossible threats against whatever it was fighting, but she didn't want to leave lest she incur it's wrath.

There was a final, echoing boom, followed by a thunderous roar. After a few minutes, she could hear the grunting, growling, and scrambling of Luna's friend coming up the pipe. It soon exited it, and then it's tail dragged the snake head out of the pipe.

A giant snake head. It's eyes were slashed out, it's lower jaw was torn off, and it's entire head torn off the rest of it's body, leaking blood that was attempting to eat into the stonework underneath it. The pool of blood reached the journal, and it let off a horrific, high-pitched screech of pain. Luna's friend moved forward, and tore one of the giant snake's fangs.

_A basilisk,_ some absent part of Ginny's mind supplied, as Luna's friend stabbed the fang into the book, silencing it. Ink bubbled and hissed as it mixed with the basilisk's blood.

"_Said I'd kill you, little snake. Kill you as often as I have to. And your stupid pet, too._"

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief.

"What was it like?" she asked.

"_Damn thing was a nutter. Kept going on and on about killing and murdering and crunching bones._"

Ginny nodded, and then the horror dawned on her. Luna never said her friend could talk. Just that it could understand her.

"You should go," said Ginny, her mind already putting together whatever lies were necessary to convince the teachers she wasn't a parselmouth. It was all the book's fault, right? It was all Tom's fault. It was obvious how it found her, it was obvious how it entered the tunnel. Yes, this could work. "I'll find you in the forest, alright? Once Luna's better. I think they said it'd be in May. Just... I'm only going to tell Luna I can understand you, alright?"

Luna's friend nodded.

"_It's January now, right?_"

"February third."

"_I'll be waiting._"

Ginny smiled at the creature as it opened the door and disappeared into the school. Not a knight in shining armor, and certainly not the Boy-Who-Lived, but whatever it was, it was nice. Even if it was a parselmouth.

Soon enough, she stood up, and went to find a Professor.

0x0x0x0

Albus suspected there was more to Ginny's story. Some things didn't fit together quite the way she wanted them to, and he suspected Severus knew, as well. Minerva, along with Molly Weasley, were more than happy to not notice the inconsistencies of her story, and just be thankful she was alive, and Slytherin's monster was dead.

Albeit by another one.

Albus took the description of the animal, and went to do some research.

0x0x0x0

Luna lead Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Hagrid, and Ginny down the path to the clearing with the thestrals.

"Mort?" asked Hagrid.

"It's alright, they won't try to hurt you," said Luna. "I imagine they'd prefer to thank you for getting rid of that mean basilisk."

There was a snort of derision, as he stepped out into the pre-dawn light. He was in full carapace, and was wary of the old man and his greasy-haired minion. There were shadows of memories of this old man, and he could smell the faintest of whiffs of the little snake.

Albus and Severus stood their ground as it walked amongst the thestrals. They parted for it, as it walked up to the men. Hagrid was holding back the girls, in case things came to blows.

It stood before them, inspecting them, before growling at the pair of them.

"You recognize this?" asked Albus, pulling out the ruined diary.

Mort carelessly swatted it aside, ignoring it. It was destroyed, dead. There was something living, something that was fresh but not. Ah. The other man. He went right up to his face, and took a long drag. Down. Left. The arm.

"Severus, your arm?" asked Albus.

Severus pulled up his sleeve, and revealed the faint outline of a tattoo, forever staining his arm and his soul.

"He served the one who created that diary," said Albus, "but turned on him, trying to save his friends."

Albus felt as though the monster was judging him. He wondered how lacking he would be found, how many people he had failed to save, how many deaths he had failed to prevent.

The creature gave a deep, rumbling growl, before turning his back on the pair of them, walking up to Luna and Ginny. Hagrid stood, tall and proud.

"Hello," said Luna. "I understand you had an adventure?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'm sorry I wasn't able to visit you for the past few months, but I'm glad you were able to find and kill the monster. It's a pity it had to die. I suppose being trapped in a basement for a thousand years would make anyone a little grumpy."

Mort snorted with amusement, before butting his head against her. She grabbed him in a hard hug, as the spines and plates melted away, and he shrank down to the size of the largest thestral, and lifted her in the air with his neck.

Hagrid smiled at the sight, while Albus and Severus were surprised. It did certainly explain how the animal moved through the halls without being noticed, and managed to fit down the pipe to the Chamber of Secrets. The armored and angry version also explained how it managed to butcher a thousand year old basilisk, although not how it survived the dread creature's gaze. Given the animal didn't seem to have eyes, however, suggested it couldn't see. How, then did it know of his presence. How could he test it? He began to subtly draw his wand.

"Was that book what you smelled?"

The creature nodded.

"And that was the same as the unicorn poacher?"

Another nod. Albus, Severus, and Hagrid all blanched at that, and Albus ceased to draw his wand.

"You smelled the same scent as the diary, in both the Unicorn Poacher, and on Professor Snape's arm?" he asked, instead.

Another nod.

"Then... was Miss Weasley like the poacher? Possessed by your enemy?"

Another nod.

"The poacher was possessed by Voldemort?" asked Luna.

"How did you come to that conclusion, Miss Lovegood?" asked Severus Snape, while Albus was utterly awestruck.

"Ginny said the diary was owned by Tom Riddle. I looked up Tom Riddle, and found he was a Slytherin in 1945, the same time as Moaning Myrtle was murdered in the first opening of the chamber of secrets. Given the monster was a snake, the only Parselmouth in recent history was Lord Voldemort, and I assumed there was a connection, which was easy to find. Tom Marvolo Riddle can be rearranged into 'I am Lord Voldemort.' Therefore, Ginny and Professor Quirrell were possessed by Lord Voldemort. Which means he isn't as dead as everyone would have hoped."

"Fifty points to Ravenclaw for a brilliant deduction, Miss Lovegood," said Albus. "To which I must say, you are correct. Tom Riddle did indeed become Lord Voldemort, and he is not as dead as everyone would hope, much to my dismay."

"I think my father would like to write an expose on that," said Luna. "Would you like to help?"

"Perhaps I shall, Miss Lovegood. While I have been collecting evidence for quite some time, it is not enough to provide true proof. The world is as ready to realize his return as they are to understand the existence of the crumple-horned snorkack."

Luna nodded sadly, before brightening.

"Would you like to be an anonymous source, then?"

Albus smiled.

"I would love that, Miss Lovegood."

She clapped her hands with glee.

"I'll write father immediately!" she started to run back to the castle, then stopped, turned back, and gave her friend another hug. "Thank you for hunting down the monster."

Luna's friend gave a snort, as this time she really did run up to the castle.

0x0x0x0

In a truly massive (if macabre) manor with albino peacocks wandering it's highly temperature controlled grounds, Lucius Malfoy muttered things unrepeatable after Severus Snape handed him a copy of the Quibbler.

Everywhere else, people wondered. Xenophilius Lovegood normally wasn't that serious, but... well... he was the editor-in-chief, and his own daughter was one of those attacked.

Meanwhile, a man on a rock in the North Sea saw a copy of the Daily Prophet. He saw a picture, and realized, quite simply, that _he was at Hogwarts. _Within the week, he had left. This confused everyone, because the only _he_ they could think of most certainly wasn't at Hogwarts. Then again, all the other people on the rock were insane, so it didn't matter.

0x0x0x0

Remus Lupin had a job. There was a question he wanted to ask Albus, but he valued the job to much to dare approach the question.

He sighed, knowing, also, that a man he thought his friend was out, and headed for Hogwarts. He supposed he'd have to find a few things that were still on the grounds.

0x0x0x0

"I will not allow Dementors at Hogwarts," said Albus. He was plain-spoken and without malice, but his voice was made of steel.

"But… but… Sirius Black! He's after Potter!" cried Cornelius Fudge, halfway into a panic.

"And Potter is not here."

"And just where _is_ Mister Potter?" drawled Lucius Malfoy.

"Protected," replied Albus Dumbledore, staring him directly in the eye. "It has already been established there have been several attacks on the school, and I felt it would be best for Mister Potter to be taught in a _safe_ environment."

Cornelius and Lucius were both struck dumb by this. Albus Dumbledore, willing to admit Hogwarts _wasn't safe_?

"I have had a possessed professor attempting to poach unicorns, and I have had an eighty foot basilisk in this school. I would prefer a nice, quiet, _safe_ year before adding Mister Potter to that mix. I do not believe Dementors would be conducive to that." At this, Albus paused. "In fact, I think they would _detract_ from that."

"But… but… Sirius Black!" repeated Cornelius.

"Is looking for Mister Potter, is he not? And the Daily Prophet's pages are filled with statements that Mister Potter is not, and never has set foot in Hogwarts, correct?"

Fudge nodded.

"Then I fail to see a reason the Dementors should be positioned here. Around school children. Perhaps having Aurors in Hogsmeade and in Diagon Alley? Perhaps increasing the DMLE budget? Perhaps, for the first time in eight years, hire more than _two_ new Aurors, as has been the recommendation of both myself and Madame Bones?"

On this, Fudge fell silent. Lucius was already silent, having realized that Albus was actually willing to state Hogwarts wasn't safe. Which, if he were honest, it wouldn't have been for the boy.

Still, Fudge didn't seem to comprehend the idea of not doing something, so Dementors were stationed _around_ the school, but not actually _in_ the school.

That still left the question of just where the boy was.

0x0x0x0

The cloaked things stank. They stank of pain, misery, and despair. They stank of an old boot cupboard under the stairs. They stank of a screaming mother and a shouting father and green light. They stank of a friend's bruised, bloody, and dirty face, cold and still in the harsh firelight.

"Nasty things, Dementors," said Hagrid of them. "Suck all the happiness and warmth from a room. If they kiss you, they suck our your soul. Don't know if that'll work on you, but I'd avoid them."

Mort avoided them, until they went into the forest. Ice formed on the trees with their passage, and rather than attack him, they surrounded him. He roared at them, hatred emanating from him in waves, as he felt over-and-over-and-over, the screamed pleas of a woman and the green light and the yelling man. They tried to press in on him, like the old boot cupboard, but he wouldn't go back. He would roar and tear and break until the cupboard was no more.

He tried to hurt them, but they wouldn't break. They just kept surrounding him, forcing him down. The cold was sickening, clawing at his insides and tearing at his chest and body, but there wasn't anything else he could do. He fought his way through them, surely Hagrid would know what to do? He broke from the forest, scattering them, and made his way towards Hagrid's hut. The dementors followed, a trail of ice following them out onto the grounds of Hogwarts itself.

A tall, stern witch was out on the grounds with Hagrid, and from her wand ran a silvery-white cat, chasing away the few dementors that were still following. He crawled up to Hagrid, and dropped to his feet, letting the heavy carapace melt away and exposing skin to the comparatively warm night air.

"You alright, Mort?" asked Hagrid.

He tried to stand, he really did, but it just wasn't in him at that point. He still nodded his head. He just needed a minute.

"Don't know how to stay down, do you?" asked Hagrid. "Well, just stay here for a little bit, alright?"

"I don't think it understands you, Hagrid."

"He understands me just fine, just ask Dumbledore. Here, have some chocolate. It'll make you feel better. You can eat chocolate, right?"

McGonagall watched as this… this creature, Mort, seemed to take a long look at the foiled wrapped package that Hagrid was holding out to it. It had shrunk, perhaps to a little shorter than Hagrid, rather than the oliphant-sized beast it was before. It reached out and gently took the package. Rather than bite into it like some animal, or even rip it open like one of her own students, it carefully opened the package with a single claw, bending the bright foil open to reveal the Honeydukes chocolate contained within.

"Carry a few bars with me whenever I'm out of the castle. Figure it's a good idea with those _things_ out and about."

The creature broke off the first row of the bars, and began to carefully eat each individual square, savoring each bite of the chocolate. It eventually sat up, crossing its legs, still savoring it's chocolate bar.

"Like it a lot, don't ya?"

A slow, gentle nod, as the creature stared out at the forest. It's tail absently twitched, and McGonagall swore it was almost purring with pleasure at eating the chocolate.

"You are what defeated the basilisk on behalf of Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley?" she asked, finally.

Another nod.

"I have a student who could… who could use a friend. She is also an avid researcher, and perhaps she can find a way for you to communicate with others."

He nodded.

0x0x0x0

Hermione Granger was following Luna out towards the rear of the school in the pre-dawn light. She'd been asked, quiet pleasantly, to go with the diminutive Ravenclaw out with her to speak with a rather unusual but intelligent being on the grounds.

She noted the word "being" and "unusual." Both went together, apparently, where Luna was involved, but she followed nervously. She was confused when Luna took a rather unusual route through an empty clearing in the forest, at least until she walked into something invisible and leathery.

"Luna? What did I just walk into?"

"A thestral. They pull the carriages. They're a type of winged horse."

Hermione wanted to ask other questions, such as "If they're a horse, why are they leathery?" or "How do you know they pull the carriages?" or, better yet, "How did you navigate around them, if they're invisible?"

She then followed Luna's route to the center of the clearing. Luna stood, waiting, looking into the canopy of trees above the clearing.

"So… is it a thestral?"

"No. Thestrals aren't intelligent. Well, they're intelligent for a horse, but you can't hold a very good conversation with a horse."

Hermione nodded in confused understanding, then noticed the black mass of something crawling down from a tree, and winding its way through the invisible herd. It approached on four legs, and she suspected there may have been wings. It had a long neck, and no eyes.

"Is that why we're here?"

"He is. Hello, Mort! How was your summer?"

It almost seemed to purr.

"Hagrid said you had some problems with the dementors. They didn't hurt you, did they?"

It shook its head.

"This is Miss Hermione Granger, she's here to help figure out how to talk with you."

It pushed itself up onto two feet, and presented a hand to her. Hermione stared at it for a moment, then reached forward. She was surprised when her hand was taken, a light kiss (did it even have lips? She didn't even see any teeth) was placed on the knuckle of her middle finger.

"You've been waiting all summer to do that, weren't you?"

It nodded.

"Well, you still did it wrong. She needed to present her hand, first. Unless you were thinking of marrying her?"

Hermione goggled at Luna.

"Pureblood traditions. There are books."

Both Mort and Hermione nodded.

"So what do you know?" asked Hermione.

"Well… we think he can talk in parseltongue, but given that nobody else knows parseltongue, that makes it rather difficult."

He growled a moment.

"Yes, but Ginny's rather close-minded about it, being from a light family and all."

"Do you understand it?"

"Him. Sometimes. It takes practice. It's more accurate guesswork."

"Right," said Hermione, then looked back at the creature. "Um… can you write?"

Mort smacked his own forehead, and his tail snaked out and scratched "yes".

"Well then, we can start with parchment and quill. Have you ever used a quill before?"

"_No_," was scratched into the dirt.

"It's okay, I missed the obvious as well," said Luna. "You'll find wizards regularly miss the obvious."

"Parchment and quill, or the dirt works well," said Hermione, "but I think we need something faster. Have either of you ever heard of sign language?"

0x0x0x0

Remus Lupin was in the small shack between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, again.

Mort was curious as to why. Mainly, because he smelled rather wolf-like when it happened.

There was also a rather disheveled and starved dog nearby. Big, for a dog at least, and covered in a deep black fur. It stank of loneliness and despair. He let it be.

0x0x0x0

Ronald Weasley was wondering just what buck-toothed know-it-all was up to, every morning, ever since her cat nearly ate Scabbers. He carried Scabbers with him everywhere, now. Even if he didn't like the little rodent, he still didn't want him eaten.

So after dragging himself out of bed in the early morning and following her down to the Entrance Hall, and followed her and Loony out onto the snow-covered grounds. When he saw them enter the forest, he just knew he could get them into trouble, but he needed to know what they were up to.

Which is when he found himself, flat on the ground with a very large and heavily clawed foot on his chest, the left sleeve of his robes pulled up, and a large head with very sharp points on it sniffing at him.

Scabbers scrambled out of his robes, and began to run away, when a tail came from above and grabbed him. Ron thought it rather odd that the tail ended in three claws, rather than a single point, but thought it better not to question. Instead, he decided to shout at whatever was holding him down.

"Hey, that's my pet rat!"

"I don't think it'd agree with your stomach," said Looney.

The monster made a few odd motions with his hands.

"We should probably go to Dumbledore, then," replied Looney. She made odd signs back to the monster as she spoke.

"I think Dumbledore smells of lemon drops and old books, not lies and secrets, but he'll both be at breakfast by now."

Ron was picked up off the ground, and dropped onto his feet. He stood, shakily, and was then bowled over by a very large and angry black dog, attempting to attack the monster.

0x0x0x0

McGonagall felt the headache come on, as she watched the parade enter the Great Hall. Students goggled at the massive, armored form of Mort, his tail aloft and dangling a rat. A large grim was trotting on his heels, while Luna, Hermione, and Ronald Weasley were trailing behind. Hermione and Ronald were arguing about something, while Luna serenely followed the others.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mort?" asked Dumbledore.

One of the other Professors, Lupin looked ashen at the sight of the grim following this "Mort" creature, and watched as it barked at the… the rat. The rat held in it's tail. He stood, and immediately went around to the other side of the table.

"The rat is a Death Eater," supplied Luna, as Remus walked up to the rat, his wand out, pointed at the dog. The dog whimpered.

"And the dog?" asked Lupin.

"He's a dog. A little matted and mangy, but a dog."

Lupin pointed his wand at the rat, and cast a quick charm. The entire hall gasped as the rat turned into a short, pudgy and dirty man missing a finger. He was slammed into the ground, and a massive clawed foot was on his chest. Large hands patted him down, and removed a pair of wands form his person. One clattered to the floor, but the other was held onto. His left sleeve was pulled up, revealing the faint outline of the dark mark.

"I didn't do it!" shouted the man. "It was all Black! I had to hide!"

Dumbledore and McGonagall stood, rigid, as Lupin spoke. One was wondering how this would change everything, and how much trouble it would bring him. The other was wondering how she could have doubted a young man she had known for years.

"You betrayed them, Peter! You betrayed James and Lily! You sold them out to Voldemort! You betrayed Sirius, sending him to rot in prison, and now you expect me to believe you? You could have revealed yourself at any time, even if you murdered twelve muggles! No, instead, you hid like the little coward you are!"

The hall was silent, at this proclamation.

"Sirius, help me bring this little maggot in for justice."

The hall jumped back, as the black grim became a gaunt but smiling Sirius Black.

"Thank you, Mort. We'll be taking him to Madame Bones from here. Albus, I don't believe I will be teaching my classes today."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Dumbledore. "Come up to my office, we'll floo from there. Minerva, I do believe we should dismiss the students. If you would speak with the young children who brought this to our attention?"

McGonagall nodded. She knew this was going to be a headache, but not a heartache as well, as she watched Sirius Black stand tall, innocent and proud of it, dragging Peter Pettigrew away.

Today, she felt, was going to be a long day.

0x0x0x0

"So what happened?" signed Mort to Luna, while Hermione was talking. He knew they had a solid ten or twenty minutes, and as long as they kept quiet, McGonagall wouldn't mind.

"Do you know about the Boy-Who-Lived?" signed back Luna.

"No."

"Well, Riddle was a Dark Lord, a wizard as evil as they come. He sought power, and to many powerful wizards, knowledge is power. So he sought evil knowledge, which corrupts you to your very soul. He became a monster. He claimed that only the purest of bloodlines should live, and the muggleborn should die."

"Alright. So what about the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Riddle attacked the Potters. He killed James Potter, and Lily Potter gave her life protecting their son, Harry. Hagrid says Harry had a lightening bolt scar on his forehead afterwards."

"The curse Riddle killed Lily with, was it green?"

"The killing curse is green. It takes quite a bit of hate to cast, but Dark Lords are very hate-filled people."

Mort nodded, before asking his final question.

"So what happened to Harry?"

"Dumbledore says he's safe and protected," replied Luna. "Supposedly with his muggle relatives. He isn't at the school for his own protection. Again, supposedly."

Luna gave Mort a long look as Mort turned away, looking at some of the objects in the office. She noticed his skin had become sharper, more solid towards the end of the conversation, but set that aside.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes."

But no matter what Luna asked, Mort wouldn't say anything else.

0x0x0x0

Sirius Orion Black was a free man.

Dumbledore had taken the three of them directly to Madam Bones. Veteriserum had been administered, while Fudge had been called in. Twenty minutes of testimony, a dictation quill, and both Albus Dumbledore and Madame Bones towering over a quivering Fudge, and he was cleared. There'd be a full-blown trial for Peter later on that week, with the press and everyone else. Sirius, though, woul be free, exonerated, and everything would be blamed on the already disgraced Bartimus Crouch Sr.

Sirius suspected there was somebody else's name on the order that threw him into prison without a trial. He wasn't going to ask now, though.

Instead, when him and Remus arrived back at Albus' office, he'd asked the first and foremost question on his mind.

"Where's my godson?"

Oh, Albus did his usual song and dance, tried to convince him he wasn't in any condition to care for the boy, he was safe and protected, he needed to spend time getting himself back into shape.

"I'm going to see him, Albus. If I like where he's living, I'll let him stay, and just be that favorite crazy uncle. But first and foremost, I am _going to see him, so where is he?_"

Albus sat in his chair, while Sirius was glaring down at him, leaning on the man's desk. The portraits slowly vacated the entire office, while Remus retrieved his wand in the event this came to blows. Albus seemed to sink into his chair, his face falling, his beard coiling on the ground.

"I don't know," said Albus, finally.

"What?" asked Sirius.

"I don't know."

Albus began speaking of his method for protecting Harry, and the very instant he said "Lily's sister," Sirius cut him off.

"You gave Harry to _Petunia_?" he growled. "_Petunia?_"

"He needed to be protected," replied Albus, a response as old and tired as he felt. "The protections that could be placed on that house would prevent anyone from harming him."

"And if he ran away?"

Albus pointed to a device on his shelves.

"A blood-based tracking device," said Albus. "I recall the boy ran away several times when he was younger, but he was always returned to his home."

"And you didn't think for an instant he might not _want_ to return?"

Albus sighed.

"Does it still work?" asked Sirius, taking the item from the shelf.

"It should, but it hasn't in the last five years. It has not entirely failed, thus the device still works, but it refuses to give his location."

Sirius was utterly silent at this proclamation. Remus glanced at Albus, and could smell his defeat.

"If you _ever_ find Harry, you will tell me. You will not touch him, you will not talk to him, you will _do nothing_, except to retrieve me. If you do not, I _will_ find out who _else _signed that order to leave me in Azkhaban without a trial. Is that understood?"

Albus nodded.

"Good. Who do you have looking for him?"

"Alastor."

"Good. At least you can figure out who can be discreet to fix your colossal fuck-up. I'll be speaking with him. Now piss off and die, Albus. I hope you rot in hell for the shit you've dumped on Harry."

Albus was silent on this proclamation. He knew better than to try and get the last word.

0x0x0x0

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong? Or am I going to keep bothering you?" asked Luna.

Mort slipped something from his arm, kept between armored plates that hadn't disappeared, and revealed a long, thin, lightly colored stick, a little over a foot in length. He gave it a wave, and red sparks and black motes drifted from it's tip.

"That's a wand!" said Luna. "Where did you get a wand?"

"Peter."

"But you tossed a wand away…" Luna paused for a minute. "Could it be Riddle's wand? I think James and Lily's wands were put on display. That's not what's wrong. Tell me."

"No."

Luna crossed her arms and thought. She wondered what could have caused this problem with her friend. Her friend had become grumpy ever since McGonagall's office. The story of the Boy-Who-Lived. Why? He was clearly too nice to be Voldemort. He didn't seem to know anything about Hogwarts, so he couldn't have been a friend of James and Lily, and not known how they died. Hagrid said he arrived only three years before she arrived. Did he feel bad for Harry Potter, the ever-missing Boy-Who-Lived, that Albus Dumbledore was reluctant to produce? But why? Wait, why was Harry Potter so hard to produce? Why hadn't he even been seen in public? There were sightings, certainly, but those had dropped off five or six years ago.

Time…

She tugged on his wing, and he turned back to her. She tugged on his wing again, and he opened them, shielding them from view.

She signed a name. He sat down, arms and wings wrapped around the both of them. He seemed smaller, somehow. Shorter, smaller than she'd ever seen him.

So, rather than ask again, she instead decided to tell a story. A story about a nine-year-old girl whose mother was a great and kind and wonderful, who researched spells and found out how they worked and why they worked. And one day, the girl walked in on her mother, and watched as a spell didn't work, didn't work in the most horrible way, and her mother died.

They sat in the clearing, the sunlight filtered through the winter trees, the thestrals having moved back into the forest.

When Luna looked at him, he made the first signs in over an hour.

"Her name was Jennifer. She was my only friend, besides you."

0x0x0x0

Mort's major issue with casting spells, was he couldn't speak Latin. He could, however, translate the spells from their original language to something he could use. Some spells were direct translations, while others were a little more creative, such as _Windgardeum Leviosa_ becoming _levitate you bastard feather_. They did find that Parseltongue was a much faster language than Latin or English, but it made even the most basic transfiguration nearly impossible. Still, Luna required him to keep practicing it.

She also approached Professor Lupin about learning the Patronus Charm, telling him how Mort was attacked by the Dementors before term began. While they had been removed, she still wanted to learn to protect her friend. After getting the incantation and wand movements down, she explained it to Mort. Mort began practicing it on a regular basis, but with both the difficulty of the spell and the Latin-Parseltongue problem, they weren't even sure it would ever work. Mort claimed, however, that the words he was using, "_I await a protector,_" felt _right_.

0x0x0x0

"I don't suppose you could follow me home, could you? I know my father would love to meet you."

"Why?"

"Because you're very nice, and I'm very persuasive, so you're coming with me."

"How?" asked Mort, knowing better than to actually argue with her.

"How small can you get?" asked Luna. "Also, we need to find out if you can floo."

Mort signed back the odd motion that Luna made. It looked a combination of the signs for walking and fire, almost as though you were to walk _through_ fire.

"It's travel by fire. It's fun. You'll see. Now, how small can you get?"

Mort shrank down to his usual two-footed height of nine feet.

"Are you certain?" asked Luna. She felt that Mort would have rolled his eyes, if he still could, and lost another foot in the process.

Luna nodded, smiling.

"Excellent. Come along, we're going on the train for winter break."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. When else would we go? You're going to spend Christmas with us."

Mort sort of stared at her for a long moment, before nodding, slowly, and following her down to the carriages. There was another short argument about where he would ride in the carriages, before finally agreed to entering them. Then, there was an argument with McGonagall about whether or not Mort could go with her.

"Miss Lovegood, why is Mort with you?"

"I've decided to take him as a familiar," replied Luna. "Or as a pet. Perhaps both? Or neither?"

"And you're going along with this?"

A Gaelic shrug was Mort's only response.

"He knows better than to argue with me," replied Luna, smiling. "Besides, it's Christmas. I'm very certain he'd like to have a Christmas."

McGonagall just nodded, not entirely certain about this, but finding it best not to argue with Lovegood. She'd tried before, and it just never seemed to work. In the back of her mind, she wondered whether or not Albus would be able to deal with the girl as she waved them on.

It seemed like something she'd like to see.

"By the way, since he's my familiar, he'll be staying with me in my room."

And that's where the argument would be. McGonagall smiled.

"We'll have to take it up with Albus," she said.

Luna smiled some unknowable smile as she walked onto the train, Mort following her. She sat on a bench, and he sat across from her.

"Sorry for calling you my pet," signed Luna.

"It's alright. It's nice to be wanted, really."

"I know. I wouldn't want to be someone's pet, however."

Mort waved her off. The door opened, and Hermione stepped in, and stopped as she saw Mort sitting on the bench.

"Um… Hello Luna. Mort."

"Hello Hermione," said Luna, while Mort waved.

"I'm going to her home for Christmas."

Hermione nodded, thankful for the blank being filled. She sat down next to Luna, while Mort shifted, lying down on the bench.

"Uncomfortable?" asked Luna.

"It's the tail."

"So what are you doing for Christmas?" asked Luna.

"Just staying with my parents," said Hermione.

There was some small talk, but they were largely uninterrupted as the train went south. No one stopped in to visit them, although a few were surprised to look in and see the black monster that had caught Peter Pettigrew.

0x0x0x0

Xenophilius Lovegood gushed over Mort. He was smiling and giddy just looking at him, and Mort successfully floo'd to the Lovegood residence. He stumbled a little, but landed on all fours.

"There's three things my father cares about. Magical creatures, the Deathly Hallows, and me. If anyone can find out what you've become, he will."

"Thank you. Are we going to tell him who I am?"

Luna thought about it for a moment, before deciding.

"Do you want to tell him?"

"No… not yet. I suppose I should tell him at some point…"

"Then why not now?"

"Because we aren't even sure I'll ever change back. If I'm not him anymore, then why bother claiming to be him?"

"But you are him, even if don't look it anymore."

On this, Mort was still.

"So what language are you talking in?" asked Xenophilius.

"American Sign Language. Hermione Granger suggested it over British, since British requires both hands. She also found a few language learning spells, and with a fair bit of practice, we learned both."

"Why both?"

"Because we're British," replied Luna, "and I refuse to stoop to learning _just_ a Yankee language."

Xenophilius nodded in understanding.

0x0x0x0

It was Mort's first Christmas amongst friends.

The house itself was so unlike anything Mort had ever seen. It was bewildering, but it was so… so _magical_. This was a wizarding home, he felt. Certainly, it needed a little cleaning (well, a lot of cleaning) but he could deal with that.

He slept at the foot of Luna's bed, at least until she dragged him up into the bed itself.

"You've spent enough time on floors and in dirt," was all Luna said.

It was… it was nice.

He woke up with the sun, as he expected, and snuck out of the bed. Luna was curled up against him, her back to his chest. He'd covered her with a wing, rather than retrieve the blankets. Cold had never bothered him, not anymore. Still, he pulled the blankets over her, and set off to make some sort of breakfast for them. Four years of work had ingrained a proper English breakfast into him, and five years of living in a forest had not driven it out.

He still had a false start or two, but managed to make something of the few ingredients in their chillbox. Xenophilius and Luna both came down to a decent breakfast, while Mort was cleaning and organizing the multitude of mis-matched dishes.

Xenophilius was rather surprised by this, and eyed both Mort and Luna carefully, but made no comment given the house hadn't been cleaner since Selene had died. It was just… surprising. Especially when Luna spoke.

"You didn't need to do that."

Mort shrugged, and made a few signs back.

"You still didn't need to. Are you going to eat?"

More signs. Xenophilius knew the spell to learn, and cast it on himself. Luna saw it, and started signing her own words.

"I'm not asking if you need to eat. I'm asking if you want to."

At this, Mort was motionless, before he finally went back to the stove and made more food.

"We'll need to go shopping, I think," said Luna. "I don't suppose you can make the three of us a Christmas dinner, do you?"

0x0x0x0

Christmas dinner proved to be a less extravagant affair, where Mort was involved. Once he figured out how to use the oven (and also cleaned the massive layers of ancient grease and dust from inside it), he started baking and roasting with gusto.

A large Christmas Ham was produced for Christmas Eve (Xeno said he wanted something different from the Weasley's Christmas Goose), along with more fixings than the three of them could possibly eat. Christmas itself was something that his relatives would have never agreed to. It was kind and loving, and more about family than about the gifts and presents being given.

Molly and Ginny arrived that afternoon, both wondering where the Lovegoods were and carrying heaps of leftovers. Rather than the usual forgetful emptiness of the rockery, they arrived to find a festive atmosphere, an overflowing chillbox, and a smiling Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Mrs Weasley, Ginny."

"Luna, dear, how are you? We didn't see you and your father at Christmas dinner."

"Sorry, we had Mort, so we didn't want to intrude."

"Mort, oh, no, he wouldn't be... a... bother..." trailed off Mrs Weasley, as she saw Mort duck into the room, carrying a tray of sliced ham for sandwiches. He'd prepared enough for his old family, not for his new one. Still, he didn't mind, since Luna had loved it.

"Er..."

Mort nodded to her and Ginny. Ginny stood, staring at both Mort and Luna, eyebrows raised.

"You brought him _here_?" asked Ginny.

"Yes. We've been teaching each other sign language." She glanced at Mort. He signed something to her. "Father wanted to help identify him."

"Oh, you poor dear, not knowing what you are. I do wish you the best of luck. And that does smell very good! You've had practice cooking?"

And with that, Luna was trapped in the middle of a recipe exchange.

0x0x0x0

"Oh, Hello Ellena, Jamie. This is Mort. He's mine. He'll be staying up here every once in a while."

The other two girls in the Ravenclaw dorm nodded exceedingly slowly, staring at Mort with wide-eyed looks.

"We had a wonderful time at Christmas," continued Luna, not waiting for a response. "I'm so glad McGonagall finally gave permission for me to allow him into the castle."

Mort wondered about that, idly, but he liked both sleeping on a bed, and sleeping on a bed with Luna. Part of him felt it was somehow wrong, that if he was human it'd be wrong to sleep in a bed with another girl, but that part of him was silenced by how comfortable, both he and Luna were.

0x0x0x0

Mort spent a day in the dorm-room, reading a book on enchanting, when one of the fourth years entered and began to open Luna's trunk. They stopped when they heard the deep throaty-growl from the above them, Mort staring down at them from atop the canopy of her bed.

"Um... I'm borrowing something?" started the student. "Luna's a friend of mine?"

Mort's tail snaked out over the bed, and pushed the trunk closed.

The student, a chinese girl, swallowed very carefully, before backing out of the room, and heading on down the stairwell.

He decided he needed to learn enchanting and locking charms, and would ask Luna about it later.

0x0x0x0

Luna said her things would usually go missing. When Mort said people were claiming to borrow them, she nodded, and hunted down a very theory oriented book on enchanting from the library. After reading a text on spell-creation, he promptly stated he'd be joining her when she took Arithmancy and Ancient Runes next year, whether anyone cared or not.

Luna merely nodded, and life went on.

0x0x0x0

"Thank you for _finally_ meeting me," muttered Sirius Black, having given the six required passphrases to Alastor Moody. He had already spent four months sending back and forth owls, patroni, and even regular muggle mail (albeit heavily charmed) to the man, before he sent a portkey that left Sirius Black in an empty, warded room for two and a half hours.

"Had to be sure," growled back Moody. He made no motion to give out food or drink. He trusted no one, and felt no one trusted him.

"Dumbledore had you looking for Harry."

"He did. Didn't do much good, when he didn't ask for all of my results. What do you know?"

"Albus placed him with Petunia Dursley nee Evans. He disappeared about five years ago."

"Petunia knows nothing. Boy went to school, cousin said he didn't come home. She reported him missing the next day, and was done."

Sirius nodded.

"Albus probably didn't mention he dropped the boy on Petunia's doorstep on November 1st."

"No. No he didn't. He made no mention whatsoever of leaving a boy who could walk out on a cold, November night. Should I be surprised?"

"Not really. Albus is dumb at times. Then again, he seemed to think everything would work out fine, and look where that's gotten him so far."

"Like his assumption about me."

"Right. Now, what Albus refused to pay any mind to was pretty interesting. McKinnon family. Their youngest son, Gordon, spent a fair amount of time with Petunia's lardball of a son, Dudley. Their only daughter, Jennifer, was Harry's only friend."

"_Only_ friend?" asked Sirius.

"Mm. Dudley and Gordon played a game called 'Harry Hunting,' along with a few others. Made sure nobody went near him. He was pretty rough with her, according to some, too. Got it from his father is the gossip."

"Did you speak with them?"

"Can't. The lot of them were murdered. The girl was found in the basement. Father had tried to hide her, after accidentally beating her to death. Autopsy said she'd been beaten a fair amount before. Fractured her skull when her head bounced off a table. Harry was seen asking after her, two or three times.

"Oh, Merlin."

"Harry broke in through the basement window. They ID'd him through fingerprints from a school assignment. He found the girl. This is where things get… fuzzy."

"What happened?"

Alastor summoned a folder from a nearby table, and laid it out in front of Sirius. Sirius opened it and barely flinched at the sight.

"The rest of the McKinnon family was butchered. Physically torn limb from limb. And I mean physically, you can see the handprints. No spells. I've read the autopsy reports, looked over the pictures, everything."

Sirius nodded.

"I asked about the ceilings. Ten foot. Still leaves us with half-giants, werewolves, and vampires. No bites, and far to much spilled blood, leaving half-giants. Doesn't strike me as something Hagrid would do, and there aren't any other half-giants in England."

"And Harry?"

"Prints are on the basement door."

"How did he leave?"

"Back door, maybe. Torn off its hinges. Damage indicates from the inside."

"So how did this thing get in?"

"Gut says portkey. Seems like a nice plot to kill him or kidnap him, and it kills some muggles in the process."

"Why not portkey him away?"

"Burst of magic that big in a muggle neighborhood? You were an Auror, Black. Use your brain. They'd follow it easy."

Sirius hmm'd, then went back to the pictures.

The hand was huge, whatever it was. Had it kidnapped Harry? But _what_ was it? Alastor was right. No bites, lots of blood. It just tore the entire family apart. It had to be something big and mean, that could sneak around when it needed to.

Inspiration struck Sirius, and he soon excused himself.

0x0x0x0

"Hello, Hagrid."

"Sirius! I… I'm sorry, Sirius. Maybe… Maybe if I had given you little Harry, you never would have gone."

"I know, Hagrid. We both trusted Dumbledore on that one. I figured I'd get a trial, you had to get Harry out of there, and Dumbledore figured he was doing the right thing."

"It means… it means a lot to me, you saying that, Sirius. I'm sorry, I should- we all should've known better, than thinking you'd betrayed James."

"It's in the past, Hagrid," said Sirius, knowing the half-giant would blubber endlessly if he allowed it.

"I know, I know, but it's good to hear it from you. Now I know you didn't just come to chat with me, so what can I help you with?"

"The creature that found the rat."

"You mean Mort?" asked Hagrid.

"Yeah, can I see him?"

"No, he's not at the school anymore. He went home with Luna. Luna Lovegood, that is. I'm glad he found a good home, that forest isn't a proper home. No disrespect to you and Professor Lupin, of course. Sorry to see him go. Lot of the kids liked him."

Sirius nodded.

"He's helping me with something important," said Sirius. "I think Mort might be able to help, too."

"Of course, of course. Oh! One more thing..." said Hagrid, turning and heading into his hut. He stepped back out, and a white snowy owl, with brown spotting covering its lower body. "She's a few years late from when I meant to give it to him, but his birthday is coming up."

"Oh?" asked Sirius.

"I bought this for when Harry turned eleven. I'd planned on giving her when he showed up for school and all, but, well with Albus being worried and everything, I hadn't had a chance to. Can you give her to Harry for me?"

"Yeah... of course," said Sirius, something within him hardening.

Hagrid smiled, wholly unaware of the conflicting emotions crossing Sirius's face.

"Thanks a bunch, Sirius. An' again, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have."

"It's alright," replied Sirius. "And I'll make sure Harry gets this for his birthday."

0x0x0x0

Sirius and Remus walked up the winding path to the black tower at the top of the hill.

"Definitely Lovegood's place," said Sirius.

"Be kind," replied Remus. "This might be our only lead."

"What, not courteous?"

"That always struck me as being beyond you," remarked Remus, as Sirius rolled his eyes and knocked on the front door.

Xenophilius Lovegood, with his wild hair and equally wild eyes, stared back at them.

"Hello," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Boardman. I understand you're getting the Hobgoblins back together again?"

Whatever Sirius had been expected, that was not it. Remus, instead, spoke.

"Yes, Mister Boardman is interested in a comeback tour," he began. "Unfortunately, we're still looking for a few of the original band members."

"Ah, of course, of course," said Xenophilius, nodding quickly. "And you would be?"

"Remus. Remus Lupin, Mister Boardman's manager. May we come in?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Come in, come in."

Sirius sighed, realizing the man was quite completely and utterly insane, but followed Remus into the building. They needed to speak with Luna and Mort.

Sirius watched as Remus began spinning a story of deceit, drama, and bullshit, that Xenophilius was just eating up. Sirius looked out the window, to see a slim blonde girl reading, her back up against something that just drank in the midmorning sunlight.

Sirius motioned to Remus he was heading out the back door. Remus looked at him and nodded, even as he was still talking with Xenophilius. Sirius spelled the back door silent, and exited the house. Mort was already looking at him, as he closed the door. He tapped Luna's shoulder and pointed up at Sirius.

"Oh, hello, Mister Black."

"Hello Miss Lovegood. I was hoping you and Mort could help me with something."

"Of course," replied Luna.

"Harry Potter is missing," said Sirius, expecting an explosion of surprise, an exclamation, anything, except for the girl's quiet acceptance of this.

"He… he disappeared five years ago, and I'm trying to put together what happened to him."

"Well, what do you know?" asked Luna.

"The muggle law enforcement, the police, have him at the scene of a murder."

"How do they know?"

"Fingerprints. They're unique, and Harry's were there. Harry's Aunt provided some of this things for the police to identify them from."

Luna nodded.

"A little girl… a little girl was murdered, and Harry was looking into it. The girl's father was the one who murdered her, and… and the girl's parents, along with both older brothers were… were butchered. Literally torn limb from limb. Without magic. There's very few things that could do that, and fit into a muggle house. And… well… I wanted to ask if… if Mort was at that house."

Mort tapped Luna on the shoulder, and made a few signs. Luna nodded.

"She was raped by her father, as well," said Luna.

Sirius felt something twist in his gut. He swallowed, horror in his chest trying to escape, to know that such a thing happened.

"Did you… did you see Harry at all? While you were there?"

Mort shook his head.

"Back to square one," murmured Sirius. He sat down on the grass, his eyes falling to the ground, trying to think of something, anything that would be helpful.

Nothing.

It broke him.

Ten years in Azkhaban, knowing Harry was alive, and well, and protected and safe, and it was all a lie. That he'd been abused and beaten, that his only friend was an abused, beaten and _raped_ little girl who was murdered… and now… and now his last chance at finding him had evaporated like water in the desert. His last chance at saving him. His last chance at rescuing him, at showing him what his friends and his parents, and fulfilling his promise to James.

He broke down into sobs, his face in hidden by his arms, cradled on his knees, inarticulate and undecipherable sentences uttered between his choked off cries of despair. Luna stepped forward, and hugged him, even as he wailed his pain and misery.

Remus Lupin stepped out of the house, and saw Sirius, Luna hugging the lost and now finally broken man. She seemed to be glaring at Mort, while Mort was standing, arms crossed. Power and anger seemed to be radiating from the creature, the shadows around it lengthening.

Just what was it, he wondered as he walked down from the back door to Sirius. He picked the man up, he was still to thin and light from Azkhaban, and the stress of trying to find Harry was just adding to it.

Luna started having a very one-sided conversation of hand signals with Mort. The shadows around him and within him seemed to deepen as Luna signed at him.

"Professor Lupin?" asked Luna. "Can we help you find Harry?"

"I'm no longer a Professor, Miss Lovegood. I've quit Hogwarts to help Sirius find Harry. After what Albus did…"

"What Albus did?" asked Luna. "This is off the record, just so you know."

"He ignored James and Lily's will. Harry was supposed to be with Sirius' cousin, Andromeda, or with Edgar and Daria Bones. Granted, Amelia took over for them after Voldemort killed them, but she's done a good job raising Susan. It's just… he did so many things so very _wrong_ back then. He doesn't even bother with apologizing, he doesn't admit he made a mistake, he just… it drives me mad. I don't understand how Minerva can stand him."

"I imagine he hates his parents, then," said Luna.

"What?" asked Sirius. "Why? James and Lily were wonderful people!"

"Because he thinks he was left to his aunt and uncle by them. If he ran away, and doesn't want to be found, then I rather suspect they must have been horrible to him."

Sirius nodded slowly.

"He wouldn't trust anyone. Especially not friends of his parents. They're all lumped together, as liars and abusers. People to be distrusted, to avoid at all costs. And with magic as powerful as Harry was suspected to have, he would never be found."

"He… he wouldn't, would he? Hate James and Lily?"

"He never knew them, Sirius. It's… it's a possibility. I never… I never thought of it that way, Miss Lovegood. But… it does explain some things."

"Petunia," muttered Sirius. "Fucking bint. This is all her fault."

"No, this is all Albus' fault," said Remus.

"Have you tried just sending him an owl?" asked Luna.

"No," said Sirius.

"Try that. Just send a letter. Without tracking charms, without spells, just a simple letter on parchment. Maybe the owl will take it, maybe the owl won't. But if the owl does… maybe you'll get a response."

"It's a plan," said Remus.

"It's all I've got left," muttered Sirius. "Might as well. Hell, maybe the owl Hagrid wanted to give Harry will find him."

"It's worth a try," said Luna.

Once they left, Luna turned back to Mort, to continue their argument.

0x0x0x0

_ Dear Mister Harry Potter,_

_ If this letter finds you, please don't destroy until you've reached the end._

_ My name is Sirius Black. I am your godfather. I was a friend of your parents before they were murdered. I'm aware that you were put with your aunt and uncle, and while I don't know how big a mistake it was, I know that it was a mistake to place you with them. I was wrongfully imprisoned for your parents deaths, and have only recently been cleared._

_ I'm writing to you because this is my last chance at finding you. I know you're still alive, but I want, at least, to know that you are safe, healthy, and protected. Please send back a note saying that much. If you wish no further contact, I understand._

_ We've asked the owl to contact you when you are alone, in case your present guardians are as despicable as your previous ones are. I apologize, but it is a precaution on our part._

_ Respectfully yours,_

_ Sirius Orion Black_

0x0x0x0

Sirius was depressed. That much was evident.

The snowy owl had left three days before, and they were still waiting for her return.

His theories about what had happened to the owl had reached well into "outlandish" by the middle of the second day, and Remus could only force him to clean Grimmauld Place so much.

Sirius was vibrating in his seat, staring at the open window at breakfast time on the third day.

Both men, for entirely different reasons, breathed a sigh of relief when the snowy owl landed in front of Sirius, a muggle envelope attached to its leg.

Sirius snatched it away, tore open the envelope and began reading, handing the owl an entire plate of bacon to eat.

"Well?" asked Remus, slowly picking at his own breakfast. After a minute or two, Remus moved his chair so that he could read over Sirius shoulder. It was written in a somewhat neat hand, with a muggle pen.

_Dear Mister Black,_

_ Thank you for your concern. I wish I had it had been sooner, too. Why was I placed with my aunt and uncle, if it was a mistake? Why didn't any of my parents friends check on me? You have an excuse, and a good one. What about others?_

_ I can receive owls at any time._

_ Harry Potter_

Sirius and Remus stared at the parchment for a long moment.

"Well, why didn't you visit?" asked Sirius.

"Albus suggested that if I did, I could be arrested for making an attempt on Harry's life," replied Remus.

Sirius sat there, staring at the wall for a long moment.

He summoned parchment and quill, and began to write out two more letters.

0x0x0x0

Luna watched the snowy white owl land on the breakfast table, and handed a letter to Mort.

_ Dear Harry_

_ Thank you for responding. It is wonderful to hear that you are well, safe, and, well, alive._

_ To answer your first question, you were left on the doorstep of the Dursleys by Albus Dumbledore. And I mean "left on the doorstep." You were in a basket with (hopefully) a warming charm and a note. Your parents will was ignored. You were supposed to be left to myself, Remus Lupin, Alice and Frank Longbottom, Andromeda and Ted Tonks, or Edgar and Daria Bones._

_ Remus Lupin was a friend of your father's, and was "suggested not to visit" by, again, Albus Dumbledore for a condition he has, under threat of arrest and imprisonment. How he was then made a teacher at a school you should have attended, however, was never discussed, as getting Dumbledore to admit something requires blackmail._

_ Alice and Frank Longbottom were tortured into insanity two days after your parent's deaths._

_ Andromeda and Ted, as near as I can tell, were ignored. Albus claims it was to prevent Andromeda's sister, Narcissa, and by extension her husband Lucius, from claiming you. Lucius was a follower of Voldemort who claimed to be bewitched._

_ Daria and Edgar Bones were attacked two months before your parent's deaths. Edgar was killed then and there, while Daria succumbed to her injuries within a year._

_ I'm more than certain Albus used some explanation or another to wave off other's concerns. I know he did this with Minerva McGonagall. He is that sort of individual. As to why he did it… he claims there were protections based on family blood. I think he knew exactly how you would be raised, and hoped for an abused little boy looking for acceptance from the kindly grandfather. Or maybe he's just senile. The man's nearly a hundred and twenty years old at this point._

_ Honestly, I'd prefer him to be senile, rather than evil._

Mort stopped, hearing the knock at the door. Xenophilius answered with a rather normal greeting, and allowed the two men into the house. Mort blinked, as he realized it was Sirius and Remus. Sirius stopped and stared at them, then at Hedwig, then back at Mort.

"Harry?" he asked.

On this, Mort was entirely still. Luna signed at him.

Mort placed the letter on the table, and then nodded.

"You mean..." began Remus.

"A MacFusty Transformation," said Sirius, nodding.

"A MacFusty Transformation?" asked Luna.

"Something a Ravenclaw doesn't know?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, but only temporarily, as you will be providing enlightenment."

"Right. It's an accidental animagus transformation. Almost always into a magical creature, and it's barely reversible," said Sirius, staring. "Harry, is it really you?"

Mort nodded.

"Well, this is rather bolloxed up, now isn't it?" muttered Sirius.

**Author's Notes: **And that's about where I ran out of steam on this thing. It has it's problems, and I'm fairly certain they're big enough to drive a semi through.

The ending is sort of misty. It'd definitely be in the Graveyard, but I can't figure out a proper way to do it, that won't make it look one-sided.

That, and there's always those goddamn horcruxes. Gah.


	10. There'll be Peace When You Are Done

**Note: **Not related to any previous story.

The stone walls seemed older, heavier with age and time. A solemn reverence filled the air, gave it a distinct smell and feel of graceful dignity he found lacking in... other places. The ceiling was massive and vaulted. Stone pillars surrounded ornately carved wooden pews. Stained glass depicted holy men holding books and swords, and sometimes being eaten by lions.

He felt a connection to that, strangely enough.

He sat on a wooden pew for the first time in his life, and felt satisfaction when the sky did not open up, it did not rain toads, lightning did not smite him, nor did he burst into flames. Instead, there was nothing but a blessed and holy silence.

There were no screams of "FREAK" or "BOY". There were no shouted orders for chores or work. There wasn't even any yelling for no reason at all. There were no whispers. There were no newspapers calling him savior, or reporters calling him damned. There were no pointing fingers or accusing figures. There wasn't anything at all.

Blessed. Holy. Silence

He could almost fall asleep in this place. Rest in this sacred place, free of nightmares and guards, and all the rest of the pain of the outside world. Even his scar seemed to hurt not at all.

He wasn't alone, here. At least, he never felt it in this empty place. Not a soul surrounded him, and yet here he never felt the all-consuming loneliness of his Uncle's, even surrounded by his _family_. Here, it was different. There was a sense of warmth, but unlike any he really remembered.

He sat there, and rested. He felt the constant weight in his limbs leech away, and strength pour back into them. He felt the chaos and disorder of his mind come together like the final pieces of a puzzle. And most of all, he felt an aching familiarity as he stared up at a man hanging from a cross.

The unbearable weight of the world, the impossible weight of a destiny he didn't want was on his shoulders. As he sat, it seemed that little bit lighter. It felt as though he could stand, as though he could shoulder it, bear it, carry it to the end. He never questioned how he would do it. It never occurred to him. He knew it just needed to be done.

He wasn't sure what that end would be, not at all. But as he stood, looking to another man that had carried a weight, bore it all the way to the end, he knew he would do it as well.

**Author's Notes:** I've got nothing. Sometimes, things just show up in your head, and you know you've got to roll with it. There's no choice in the matter.


	11. Anakin Potter

Anakin Skywalker could feel his fingers and toes.

This was surprising to him, as he previously didn't have fingers _or_ toes. In fact, he didn't have hands or feet. Or forearms, shins, thighs, or two upper-arms. He had one upper-arm, which he rather jealously guarded from people who would take it from him.

He could also feel a rather hefty supply of compulsions attempting to shape and direct his personality. Anakin paid them little mind, as years with a psychotic telepathic madman made ignoring compulsions to do random things rather simple. He did take a moment to inspect them, at least. One to not hate his relatives, one to not ask questions, one to be foolishly brave, a second one to not ask questions, one to follow authority, a third one one to not ask questions, and finally, one to avoid doctors, nurses, and other healers.

Anakin noted that they were slowly applying more and more pressure to him, so he rolled his eyes, and broke them all.

Next, he inspected himself.

He'd have inspected himself visually, except, well, he couldn't very well see. Not because he didn't have eyes (which he rather liked having now), but because it was dark. But he'd get to that.

His first surprise, was that he could feel a power he didn't recognize within him. Then again, he now had fingers and toes, so he was willing to grant allowances. It felt like the power was restrained, however. He poked the bindings on it, and realized it wasn't just restrained, it was _heavily_ restrained. He frowned at this, but decided against doing anything just at this moment. Playing with powers he did not comprehend had got him into rather bad places previously, so he held off.

For now, at least.

He did, at least, appear to have a rather annoyingly grievous head injury. He suspected that, whoever he once was, suffered braindeath because of it. And it wasn't quick braindeath, either, given how much blood was on the floor. Anakin could sense the damage to his skull, and was already using the force unconsciously to re-align the pieces of his skull. Oddly enough, the strange power was also healing the damage.

He used the force to determine what caused the damage, and "Cast Iron Frying Pan" was not something he entirely expected.

Instead, he sat up, ignoring the pain from his head, and meditated.

The meditation sped up the repair of his brand-new, slightly-used skull, while determining that he was a seven-year-old boy. Upstairs (and the stairs were the reason the ceiling was so low) were the body's flesh and blood Aunt and Uncle, along with their child. The world he was on wasn't one he'd ever heard of, and didn't seem to have any technology that would achieve space-travel.

All-in-all, if he were still Darth Vader, this world would be ripe for the plucking. Instead, it felt strangely... normal.

It was nearly dawn when he finished his meditative naval-gazing, and he undid the latch on the cupboard via the force. He stepped out, examined the kitchen, and began to make himself breakfast. He knew the aunt and uncle expected him to make it for them, but this would change.

When the uncle, a large waddling man that reminded Anakin rather morbidly of a Hutt, came into the kitchen, and saw Anakin eating breakfast, he opened his mouth to start shouting at him.

"You will make your own breakfast," commented Anakin.

"Right," said Vernon, and went to the stove. He stared at it for a few minutes, before turning back to Anakin.

"I don't know how," he whined.

Anakin sighed.

"Then ask your wife," muttered Anakin.

"Ah, right, of course. I'll ask Petunia."

Anakin shook his head, and returned to his breakfast.


	12. Harry Potter And The Weird Book

The Restricted Section in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, much like witchcraft and wizardry in general, made it's own sort of sense after a bit of thought. Knowledge, in the Wizarding World, was valued above all other things. There was no such thing as a Public Library in the Wizarding World, and book shops only contained spells practically everybody knew. Most of those spells were culled from the various and many books in the Hogwarts Library, in fact.

Thus, such books as _Hexes and Jinxes to Annoy Your Friends and Enemies_ was a compilation of several years of research on the part of several pranksters to find every joke spell in the entire library. Much was the same for books as _Basic Wards for the Home_ and _Spells Every Auror Knows_.

The Restricted Section was an entirely different barrel of monkeys.

Teachers liked to say that the books contained dangerous spells, both to the target and the user. And there were a few books that contained brain-liquefying and genitalia-exploding curses, but there were other, worse things in there as well. Some of the books poisoned or cursed the reader (which is why they were kept on their own, seperate iron or glass shelves). Others contained knowledge that would drive the unprepared mad. And then there were still others beyond _that_.

Thus, passes to the Restricted Section were rather jealously guarded.

When a not-so-innocent first year sneaked into the Restricted Section, past the the wards and traps with an invisibility cloak that none should rightly own, it was a bad thing. And when he wandered past the second line of defense for the restricted section - the tempting (and trapped) books on the Dark Arts that most people sneaking into the Restricted Section were looking for – it was a _very _bad thing.

Said innocent first year then came across a book that didn't belong. It was obvious to the first year, that it didn't belong, because it was on the floor. Madam Pince would never allow a book to so much as _touch_ the floor, let alone sit out on it _overnight_.

He picked up the book, and furrowed his brow. The title was very strange, he found.

_ Gran Pulse_.

He opened the book, and there wasn't any writing in it. There was only a single moving picture. This didn't strike Harry as very strange, at least until he realized that the picture was in full color. None of the other pictures in books were full color.

And what it showed! There were giant monsters, and weird cities, and big country sides. It looked like a grand adventure!

Against all reason and sense, the first year reached out and touched the picture.

The book fell to the ground. The first year was gone.

**Author's Note: **I've been playing Final Fantasy 13-2, and I was always a fan of Myst. Granted, I could always have the other direction occur via time travel accident. The idea, though, that you could pick up a book, and _literally_ be someplace else always fascinated me. The Hogwarts library is big and old and weird. There should be strange things in it, and a linking book to someplace big and old and weird is something that makes perfect sense to me.


	13. Wish Fulfillment via Time Travel

**Wish Fulfillment via Time Travel**

The silence was what got to prisoners first. Not the cold, not the gaulers, not the conditions. The silence. There was no dripping water, no screams of fellow inmates.

She sat, staring at the bars of the room, waiting for an end to come. Would she mind death? Would she care if the end came? No, not really. Her master was still out there, but broken and destroyed. She could feel it in the tattoo on her arm. She _knew_ he still lived, somehow, somewhere. But he was not here. He could not break her from this imprisonment.

And that was important.

It took her twenty-three minutes to realize someone was standing on the other side of the iron bars.

She imagined the person as bad as herself. Stick thin and as physically broken as herself. She could see the remnants of her muscles through the near-translucent skin. What was left of her hair was matted and clumped, as she stared at the person behind the bars.

Middling height, thin and wasted, but she caught something in the person's eyes. She stared into them, realizing they were a plain brown color after another four minutes. She found what she was looking for. It was something she knew on a most intimate level, something that was just burgeoning in this soul, but that she had spent long years cultivating into the very finest of perfection before being trapped within this cage.

Violence. Madness. A want - no - a _need_ for death and blood. And something else.

For the first time in ten long years, she smiled.

"I'll do it," she said, her voice rasping out the words, part of her knowing just what was about to happen, all of her not caring. It was an escape, a release from this pit of despair.

She pulled herself to her feet, the first time in a long time, and walked to the door. She did not stumble, or simper, or crawl to the door as she had done before. She knew who she was, again. She was not some pathetic creature trapped in a cage, now. She was a witch, she still had pride, dignity, and she held it aloft.

A hand reached through the bars and took her by the chin, thin claws holding her face, petting her cheek. She could read the words burned into this thing's arm.

"Mudblood."

She recognized the style. Oh, she certainly recognized the style. She smiled into the thing's eyes, and recognized the remainder.

Vengeance.

Oh, yes. She would love this.

0x0x0x0

Griphook glanced up at the witch. He hadn't heard anyone step through the doors, but some of them were as silent as death, he found. He ignored her, and went back to his ledgers.

"I require access to my vault," said the witch. "And I have lost my key."

He lazily looked back up at the witch. She was dressed quite well, not in formal robes, but quite resplendent. When his eyes reached her face, though, he realized his mistake.

He dropped the bag of coins he was counting as violet eyes stared down at him. Long, flowing black locks of hair surrounded the face. The cruel smile on it just added to his fear.

"Ye-Yes, of course," said Griphook. "B-Blood here," he said, pulling out a parchment on his desk. Would they report this?

The woman put her thumbnail to his index finger, then pressed the finger on the parchment. Blood seeped form it, and the magic activated. A key quickly materialized on the parchment.

"The carts will take you to your vault," said Griphook, maintaining enough control over himself to not stutter his way through the sentence. As soon as she was on the cart, he immediately ran to the security chief.

Even Goblins recognized Bellatrix LeStrange.

The security detail that sat at the entrance of the bank, including several curse breakers who weren't informed of just who was coming back up the rails, a number of mountain trolls, and seven gargoyles weren't surprised in the slightest when the cart came to a screeching halt at the top of the tracks. None of them went to investigate it. They could plainly see that it was empty, and instead of investigating, the cursebreaker sent a blasting curse at it. The cart shattered, pieces of shrapnel launched down the corridor into the mines below.

Instead, what surprised them was the roar, and the sudden glow of orange flame that erupted from inside the shaft. Four of the gargoyles melted and all the mountain trolls ran screaming, half of them on fire.

All the cursebreakers immediately had a moment of "fuck this shit" as the vast bulk of an albino dragon stomped up out of the depths of the mine. Empty eyes scanned the bank, and with another roar, it sent another tongue of flame into the teller counters. It smashed open the outer doors.

Had anyone paid any attention at all, they would have realized Bellatrix LeStrange never left the bank through the front door.

0x0x0x0

"Mistress! Wait- you- _you aren't Mistress!_ WHAT ARE YOU?!"

"Be silent, Kreacher. Where is the locket Regulus gave you?"

"Why, _thing_."

"To complete your task. To destroy it. Bring it here, and it will be done, _here_. _Now_."

There was a scrambling, and a locket with a stylized S on it was placed on the table. She picked it up, holding it in her hand. Her countenance changed, rage crossed her features, and her hair seemed to float, as though she were drowning. Her hand crushed the locket, a screeching noise that made Kreacher wince in pain. He could feel the twisted cries of the magic that emanated from the thing, but ignored it, feeling the joy of his last orders completed.

The thing that wore his Mistress' face showed him the destroyed locket, letting him inspect it, allowing him to smile as he knew he was a good elf. He had finally, after ten long years, completed his orders. That wretched and evil thing was destroyed.

"It is done," said the thing. With a trailing of mist, she was gone.

0x0x0x0

A small shack in Little Haggleton had it's door torn off it's hinges. The skeleton of a snake was scattered along the ground, and a loose floorboard was torn up. A small box was picked up, and the entire shack exploded with violent force.

"Hmph," was all that was heard as the wreckage descended from the heavens. The box was immolated, and all that remained was a simple ring, with a stone set within it.

There was a screech of pain as the ring warped and twisted, molten gold running between the fingers of a closed fist. The hand opened, and a simple green stone remained, a triangle containing a circle and with a line bisecting it carved into it's suffice.

"It's never that easy, is it?"

There was a sigh, and the stone was pocketed.

0x0x0x0

The Hogwarts Express was still sitting in the station when Harry entered an empty compartment and sat down. He took a nervous breath, but continued to watch the red-haired family talking about meeting Harry Potter. He paid so much attention, he didn't hear the door open.

"Can I sit here?" asked a girl's voice.

Harry started, and looked at the girl. She had lots of bushy brown hair and buckteeth.

"Sure," said Harry.

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione. She looked rather nervous.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Hermione smiled.

"It's good to meet you. Is this your first year, too?"

"Ye-yes," said Harry, somewhat surprised that the girl didn't even ask about his scar, or who he was, or was he _really_ Harry Potter.

"I'm so worried about all of this. I mean, my family didn't have a lick of magic in them, and now I'm starting at a new school" she said, trailing off. "Oh, I'm already worried about my grades. What about you?"

"I- my parents were wizards," said Harry. "But I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They- they knew about magic, but they don't like it."

Hermione nodded.

"Well then, it sounds like we'll be starting in the same place. Let's stick together, then."

Harry nodded.

A red-haired boy stopped outside the compartment, and considered going in, but something about the girl seemed _off_. He moved on.

Hermione spoke for a time about her family, and about her worries in going to Hogwarts. She dismissed them, in the end, with a simple statement.

"But here we are. We've got to make the best of it. Oh, I'm talking to much again. What about you? What are your aunt and uncle like?"

On this Harry was silent, and frowned.

"Don't like to talk about them?" asked Hermione, with a kind smile.

Harry found himself talking about just how little love he had in his home.

If Harry had been raised properly, he might have realized that Hermione never stopped smiling.

0x0x0x0

Severus Snape was disturbed. The Granger girl was staring at him. Again. She was staring at him in a way that tickled some primitive reptilian part of his brain. It raised the goosebumps of his flesh. His heart beat faster, as his fight or flight instinct was triggered at a level he could not understand.

Then he realized what, precisely, it was.

The girl knew, too. Oh, she knew. She smiled when it dawned on him. And then she stayed after class, slowly packing her books, and sending sending the Potter brat ahead. Saying she had a question.

Snape stood, glowering at the girl as she gave a twisted smile. He held is wand, his entire body tensed for the likely fight to come.

"Sev-er-us Snaaaape," said the girl, letting his name roll off her tongue in _that_ sing-song voice.

"Bellatrix," said Severus, hoping and praying she wasn't going to immediately kill him.

Instead, she laughed. Laughed and laughed, cackling with a sadist's glee that even Severus had never heard echo from her.

"_That's funny_," said the girl. She kept smiling, but took on a more innocent quality. "But no, I'm not Bellatrix. I ate her, but I'm not her. She died well, wanting the chaos and havoc and bloodshed that I'll cause. Tell me, Severus, is Quirrell in his place? Is Quirrell on his tracks?" asked the girl, walking forward. She was taller, now, taller than him, looking down at him.

"Quirrell? What about him?" asked Snape, his back against the wall as the girl (what was she now?) pushed him back against the wall with her mere presence. Brown/Violet (which were they?) eyes stared at him, through him as she came closer and closer - as Severus tried harder and harder to sink into the wall behind him, her wand held in hand. Hair streamed behind her, held aloft by a wind he couldn't feel, warmth and cold flooded the room, the contradiction of feelings tearing at his mind.

"The stone! He's still trying for the stone, yes? You're still working to stop him, yes?"

Snape nodded, even as he prepared to kill her.

An eleven-year-old girl stared up at him. Both Snape, and his stomach dropped to the ground. He took the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Good. I'm glad, Professor. By the way, I'd recommend leaving out the logic puzzle. Have a very good day."

With that, she turned and left.

0x0x0x0

"Honestly, Severus, according to Minerva, she's one of the smartest witches she's come across. The girl's mastering transfiguration left and right."

"She asked specifically about Quirrell, and whether or not I was keeping track of him going after the stone."

Albus stopped, still staring at the paperwork in front of him, but unmoving for a moment.

"She asked you that?"

"Yes. Her eyes were violet, I think. Maybe they were brown. Or both."

"Both?" asked Albus, still unmoving. "Specifically both?"

Severus nodded.

"Oh, you're talking about me?" said a girl's voice. Both men turned, to see Granger standing with the Sorting Hat covering her eyes. "It's not nice to talk about someone behind their back."

"How did you get here?" asked Albus, his wand already pointed at the girl. Fawkes gave a squawk of disgust at Albus.

"How do I get anywhere?" asked the girl back. "Come, come, we have the same goal. Well, _almost_ the same goal."

"Goal? What goal is that?" asked Albus.

"_As the seventh month dies_," said the girl. "There's a bit before it, and a bit after it, but I know it all. I've known it since Harry told me five years from now,"

"What are you?" asked Severus.

"I am I," said Hermione, flashing perfect, white, even teeth at Dumbledore and Severus.

"Hat, what is she?"

"Insane," replied the hat. "I can't get anything beyond that."

"And you sorted her into Gryffindor?" asked Severus.

"It was either that or Ravenclaw. The mind is still here, but it's... it's..."

"It's something else," supplied Dumbledore. "Which means you are responsible for the assault on Gringotts."

"Oh, dear. I've been caught out," said the girl. "I don't think it matters at this point."

"Why are you here?" asked Albus.

"Your plan failed," said the girl. "Harry died at the hands of Voldemort, but no one had the strength left to defeat him. Hogwarts fell, and with it the hope of Wizarding England. The Statue of Secrecy was destroyed and with it the NATO invasion of England to take it back from the Death Eaters. It spread form there, when it was realized they didn't have the ability to contain the Death Eaters. Muggles destroyed most of the magical villages and schools within a year or two."

"Muggles can't even find the magical schools," said Albus. "They're layered with notice-me-not charms, and most of them are unplottable. And the wards alone would prevent muggle bombs from landing."

"Rendering a school unplottable doesn't change the location of the school," said Hermione. "And nuclear weapons only need a general location. The first one to destroy the wards, the second one to destroy the building itself. They learned that from Malfoy Manor, I understand."

"They destroyed Beauxbatons and Drumstrang?" asked Albus, unsure to believe this or not.

"Oh, yes. It's all your fault, Albus. I trusted you. Harry trusted you. We all trusted you. And you had us die, because you were too foolish to not touch the stone, when you_ knew_ it was cursed by Voldemort."

"The stone?" asked Snape.

"_The_ stone," intoned a far older Hermione. She was taller, her body filled out. She was dressed in muggle clothing, and she looked down upon them with wrath and rage. "You know _the_ stone, both of you. It was with that in his hand, that Harry walked to his doom. It was with the cloak, he walked to his doom. It was as Master of the Wand, he walked to his doom. He was not _Master of Death_, Albus. He merely_ died_."

"You saw this?" asked a horrified Albus, contemplating the very concept.

"Once I became what I am, I made the journey to witness the end of the Wizarding World."

"And just what are you?" asked Snape.

"You have seen what I am, Severus, just as I have seen what trust is placed in you. Know this, little men. Our savior's death shall be prevented at all costs. Our enemy's death shall be ensured at all costs." Hermione reached within her robes and retrieved three crushed items. One was a gaudy golden locket, another a tiara, the third a golden cup. "Four have seen their end, two remain, and one remains unmade."

She placed her hands on Albus' desk.

"Are there any questions?"

"What were they?"

"Anchors. Did you think Voldemort's boasting of immortality was just bragging, Albus? We all know he still clings to life. These were how."

"And the fourth?"

"All of them are protected, not just in location but in their physical defense. You were foolish enough to forget that. While Riddle thought it merely the Gaunt family ring, you recognized it easily enough. And thus, without raising a finger against you, he had destroyed the hope of the Wizarding World."

"Harry was not a hero?" asked Albus, carefully.

"No. Not in anyone's eyes. He's the Boy-Who-Lived. What impossible standards do you think he was held to?" asked Hermione. "No, the entire world was dropped on his shoulders." She laughed. "Two remain. Lucius has one. Severus, allow him to unleash it upon the school. Perhaps he will, perhaps he will not. If he does not well, there are ways. One other remains. I will deal with it."

"Why should we trust you, _thing_?" asked Severus, finally finding his voice.

In an instant, the thing was all to close to Severus, even as he attempted to push himself further back in his chair. He felt a tongue lick across his throat even as a mouth with far to many rows of teeth filled his eyesight.

"You have little choice," whispered Bellatrix's voice.

And then she was gone.

Albus sat in his chair, pale as a sheet. He waved his wand, and a bottle leapt from a nearby cabinet onto his desk, while two glasses were conjured. The bottle poured itself before settling down on the desk. Severus ignored the offered glass, too disturbed by the events to drink. He needed his head cleared, not muddled by the effects of alcohol. Albus, however, looked to need it, and began pouring himself a second glass.

"What do you think?" asked Albus.

"There's no reason to trust her, just as there's no reason not to." He glanced at the three shattered objects on the headmaster's desk. He poked them with his wand, recognizing the locket of his house's founder. He didn't need to cast a diagnostic charm on them, he could feel the broken malevolence radiating from the objects. "What are they?"

"Evil," replied Albus. He was shaken - that the stone was found? He coughed, something burned his chest. What was it?

"Oh, Albus?" said Hermione, invisible- Albus checked and- the cloak! The cloak was gone! "I suppose I should ask you a question before you die."

Severus jumped, dropping the glass.

Albus looked to Fawkes, and he could see the disgust on the animal's face. It did nothing as he fumbled to the floor. Severus stepped away.

"Not you, Severus. Just Albus. Tell me, Albus, why did you let the world see Harry as Dark? Insane? Moody? Arrogant? Why did you let them assume he was a Dark Lord in training? Why did you let them all say he was the Heir of Slytherin? It's odd. All of your power, and you never tried to fight the rumors and hatred that everyone attached to his name. You claimed him a grand-son, but you never did a damn thing. Tell me, Albus, why would you not have your weapon against the Dark Lord know he had allies in high places? Why would you leave a child amongst what your deputy would call the worst sort of muggles? Severus, you remember Tuney, don't you? Does she strike you as someone Lily would let near her child?"

Albus looked up and about, even as his body failed him even as Severus shoved a Bezoar into his mouth.

"Go ahead, Albus. Eat the bezoar. I'm interested in seeing how long it will prolong your life against the Basilisk venom. I know what can, but unfortunately, Fawkes knows your crimes. Perhaps he can save Harry where you failed."

It was another two minutes before Albus collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

"It's a good thing you didn't drink any," said an eleven-year-old Hermione, packing the silvery cloak into her bag. "Although questions will be raised, given who gave Albus that bottle of Fire Whiskey."

Severus glanced at it, and realized it was one of Lucius' favorites. Well, at least for giving as a gift.

"I see," said Severus.

"By the way. Don't be surprised if Lucius dies tomorrow."

0x0x0x0

Narcissa Malfoy was questioned under Veteriserum. Her testimony was terrifying.

Bellatrix LeStrange walked into Malfoy Manor, disabled the house elves and Narcissa, and Imperious'd Lucius Malfoy into opening a blood-warded safe in his Drawing Room Floor. No one knew what was removed from it, but the cache of Dark Artifiacts was more than enough to incriminate anyone. That Narcissa disavowed all knowledge of it's contents under the serum was enough proof for the Aurors. Granted, the Malfoy house-elves were still cleaning pieces of Lucius out of the nooks and cranies of the drawing room.

Between this, Albus Dumbledore's assassination, and the sudden murder of Quiriness Quirrell, no one noticed a muggle change of guardianship application, giving one Harry Potter to Emma and Dan Granger.

Harry did wonder why Hermione asked for his help in destroying some old leather journal, and also wondered about a weird dream that had Quirrell and a green light. The light seemed familiar, somehow, but Harry didn't pay it much mind. Afterwards, he dreamed about his parents, and how they loved him.

Now, though, he was looking at the letter his friend Hermione handed him.

And he was crying, because he was going to be living with her. He was going to be living with people who loved him.

And it was wonderful.

**Notes:** This is crap. Badly executed, poorly planned, but it has some weird shine to it that deserves to go someplace besides the archived heap. It's obvious some of the bones of it found their way into Fate's Bitch.

In case it isn't obvious (mostly because it isn't) Hermione has snapped, and launched herself off the deep end with a sub-orbital rocket. She's turned herself into some horror from beyond space and time. Except, doing this, she loses her ability to cast magic. Enter Bellatrix, who merges with Hermione for the lulz.

This is a classic example of wish fulfillment writing, where one fixes everything, and then everything everywhere is hunky-dory and unicorns and sunshine and puppies come out of my ass. The correct answer to these sorts of stories, is to promptly shit on them, and then flush. If your hero survives, it might be a good story.

Sorry, I'm ranting. I do that at 3am while listening to the Final Fantasy 7 soundtrack. I should replay that game. It had _standards_.

**2nd Note: **I did replay that game. Also,I am not rightly certain how long ago I finished writing this. It was a while back. Maybe a year? Either way, I should mention why nothing's been updated in two weeks.

It started with a training course I had to drive to (I do my writing on the train into work), and then it turned into "Well, this chapter hates me." I've been bouncing between things, a little bit of Jamie Evans, a little bit of the Epilogue for Something Wicked (It's about two thirds done, at this point), a little bit of Chapter 45 of Something Wicked, and a little bit of... other things. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter of Something Wicked up soon... assuming McGonagall cooperates. Not a healthy assumption at the moment.


	14. Breath of Fire - The Sorcerer's Stone

**Breath of Fire: The Sorcerer's Stone**

Ryu wasn't sure where he was. There wasn't much in the way of wildlife, here. An occasional rabbit, certainly, but nothing overly violent or life threatening. Well, except for whatever had trashed the northern half of the island.

Whatever it was, it was big. Bigger than the Nue, big. He stayed on the south end of the island, to make sure he didn't run into it, and made sure he found rabbits whenever he needed them. Maybe he'd grab some and pen them up? No, the little things burrowed too easily into the hillsides around here.

Not much in the way of tree cover, mostly low to the ground plants and flowers. The big question that faced him was what to do about winter.

Rabbits hibernated, and there wouldn't be much in the way of plant life that he could eat. He'd been looking into getting off the island, but short of a boat crashing into it, he wasn't sure there was a good way to do it.

Unless, of course, there was something on the north side that he could use.

0x0x0x0

Mary MacKenzie's portkey dropped her onto the southern half of the island. The quintapeds kept to the northern half, and she double checked, looking, again, at the parchment in her hand.

All of the inhabitants of the island were gathered in northern half of the island, and a few of the tracking charms on some of them needed to be renewed to keep the map working. It wasn't often they gathered together, and it was less often that one of them challenged the alpha.

Her eyes widened when the little vital statistics of the tracking charm reported the present alpha was now dead, and half a dozen of the others were still fighting. Already, four others were dead, over a dozen more of them were coming from the nest at the northern tip of the island.

This she needed to see, and she apparated to the top of a hill that overlooked what would clearly be an interesting battle.

The creature they were fighting with... it was huge. Massive, heavy armor plates arranged around four central horns rising out of its back. One of the horns was broken, a few of the plates were cracked from the quintaped's blows. It didn't have a neck, just a huge gaping maw that held another of the MacBoons, crushing two of its legs while igniting it and tossing it's broken body aside.

What was it, though? It breathed fire, that much she could tell from the omniculars she was staring at it with. Tongues of lit flame breathed to life from its nostrils every time it exhaled.

It turned, not very quickly, but fast enough to shake off a quitaped and catch one of its legs. It took a blow to the eye for its trouble, smashing the armor plate around it as the clubbed foot pulped the organ itself. With a roar, it tossed the quitaped aside, a massive gout of flame engulfed the quitaped.

"Definitely some sort of dragon," she muttered to herself. She recorded an image of it. It was backing away, getting free of the circle of the quitapeds as they busied themselves feasting on their own wounded and injured. She glanced at the parchment again, more of the quintapeds coming over the northern hills to join their brethren.

It was gone! The entire thing, gone! A roar went up through the quintapeds, they were still going to charge, but to face what?

"Bloody fuck..." Mary whispered to herself. The flash of light was terrifying, and a few of the quintapeds backed away. Another dragon, its skin a pale green. She zoomed, and blue flames licked around its nostrils. They didn't look like fire, though, more like...

The dragon breathed lightening! She could feel her hairs stand on end, even this far away, but the afterimage was burned into her eyes. A real bolt of lightening, jumping form its mouth into the lead quintaped. The thing burst into flames, its blood boiling and exploding out of its body with a horrible screech as its nervous system fried. Bolts jumped from it to the nearest three, all of them stumbling from the jolt.

She tried to think of a single animal that breathed electricity. Certainly, there were a fair share of mundane creatures that used electricity, even a few that used them as weapons. But nothing that actually _breathed_ it!

Discovering two magical species of dragon in a single day, she knew the Quibbler would be nuts for this. And to have footage from an omnicular, too! Another blast of lightening caught two of the quitapeds, their boiling corpses twitching. The others had stopped, growling around its' range. A few of them were trying to flank the dragon, but she knew what she had to do.

She stood up on the hill, and cast the tracking charm.

The dragon twitched, and glared about. Not normal. Only sentient beings noticed the tracking charm, animals didn't even feel the magic washing over them. The dragon spotted her, turned, and took off at a run. It must have seen her, she didn't bother with disillusionment. She just kept an eye on the map, and apparated or portkeyed away if they got to close.

The dragon, on the other hand, was charging straight for her. It skidded to a stop, and blasted another three of the quitapeds. All three of them stumbled, twitching, and were trampled by their fellows, but the rest were out for blood.

What could she do?

She couldn't move the dragon via portkey, it was just to big. Apparate? It was very small for a dragon, barely three meters to the shoulder, but she could barely side-along her sister, let alone likely forty stone of magic resistant dragon!

She sent a few confundus charms, along with a pair of conjunctivitis curses into the quintapeds, the creatures fighting amongst themselves, giving her more time to think of something, anything to save this newly discovered creature. What could she do? It launched another bolt of lightening back into the crowd, but she could tell the dragon was running out of charge. Which was when it stopped, and did something she didn't expect at all.

She'd never heard of any magical creature using magic. This, clearly, was magic. She could feel the burst of power, the torrent of discharge from the dragon. Then the bolt! It was huge! She'd seen conjured lightening before. Mostly stuff from wandtips, little sparks of electricity similar to the taser Ashley showed her once. She'd even seen a ritual to study actual lightening back in Hogwarts, but that was more of a full summoning ritual. This, though... this was pure conjuration.

The quintaped detonated under the heat of it, the water in its body vaporizing and tearing it into pieces as its physical mass burnt from the inside out.

The dragon was running again. The quintapeds were still closing, and she sent another confundus charm into the crowd. The dragon scrambled up the last of the slope to where she stood and stopped, staring at her for an instant, and she found herself staring at a small boy holding a sword that looked far to big to be in his hands. There was blood all over him, and he was clutching his chest. Tears were in his eyes, and his breath was rasping. How badly was he hurt, how was he still standing?

"I'll hold them," he gasped out, turning to face them. "You run."

There was only one thing she could do. Grab his arm and practically scream "Wattlebird!" There's a giant pull at her navel, and she was back home. The boy dropped to his knees, a white knuckle grip on his sword.

"I think we need to get you to St. Mungo's," she said, looking at his wounds, when he shook his head. His breath was rasping, and she realized he was wearing some kind of armor, and there was a fairly large dent in the armor.

"Get it off," said the boy.

"Your ribs are broken, we need to get you some help!"

"Get it off," he said, his hand shaking as he tried to undo one of the straps that held the plate on.

"Fine," she said, and then began ripping off the straps for him. He pointed out each in turn, more than a few were frayed and remade. All of them were leather, all of them varied in age, and also types as near as she could tell. The plate was practically destroyed, she wasn't sure a reparo could fix it.

The only thing she could think of, was he took an actual blow to the chest from one of the quintapeds. How he managed to survive...

Green light flooded the room, floating around the boy and then swirling into him.

"Was... was that wandless magic?" she asked.

"Wandless?" he asked. He stood up, pulling off his shirt and feeling his chest. There was still the massive red welt of a bruise that would purple in a few hours.

"You know, without a wand?" she said.

He just stood there and stared at her.

She could tell this was going to be a giant headache. She just knew it.

0x0x0x0

The first stop was dinner. She didn't have much in the way of food in the house, so she just ordered out for chinese. He was hungry, especially after the lightening and healing spells, and she needed something to occupy her body with while her brain tried to catch up.

"There anything you want?" she asked, handing him the menu.

He stared at it, confused.

"It's a menu. What do you want?"

He continued to stare at it, even more confused.

She sighed, and ordered him some lo mein, and herself some moo shi. And some spring rolls. She definitely shouldn't have done it, but after today...

"Come on, we're going to get Chinese food."

The kid stared at her.

"Like fuck I'm going to cook after today. What's your name?"

"Ryu."

"Mary MacKenzie." She pulled out a bandana and wrapped it around his head. "And people don't have blue hair around here, so you get a bandana."

He stared at her car, but figured out enough of it to get in the passenger side and buckle the seatbelt.

She'd have left him at home, but honestly, she didn't trust to let the kid out of her sight. Honestly, he wasn't too bad. She'd dealt with worse with a few of her more disastrous encounters with halfbloods. They stopped at the nearby chinese place and took their takeaway home.

Mary had never had the experience of teaching someone how to use a fork, but she wasn't about to watch him eat hot noodles with his hands.

"So what were you doing on the island?" she asked. Build a relationship with the kid. Let him talk about how he got there, before getting to how he managed to kill a dozen quintapeds. In essence, get the story. Mary always wanted to be a reporter, at least until she met and punched Rita Skeeter for being a nosy bitch.

"I don't know," he replied. Of course. Granted, it seemed the waterworks were about to start. "I was- I was somewhere else. Somewhere I didn't want to be. Where they buried the other dragons after they killed them. And- And he tried to kill me. And I didn't kill him, but I didn't want to be there anymore."

"Who tried to kill you?"

"Garr. He saved my life, then he tried to kill me."

"Why?"

"I'm a dragon."

Mary gave him a moment, wrapping up another roll of moo shi. She could never get the right amount on the pancakes, always had extra moo shi left over. Was that explanation, "I'm a dragon," supposed to be everything?

"Why is being a dragon bad?"

"Because we tried to destroy the world four hundred years ago, and there was a war."

Mary thought about whatever lessons she vaguely recalled from Professor Binns. Dragons weren't even intelligent, and she'd never even heard of a dragon animagus. Something, though, something wasn't making sense. She summoned a pen and paper, and began to make a few notes.

"Why did he save your life, then try to kill you?" she asked.

"He said... he needed to know. He wasn't sure if we needed to die. He's a Guardian, and he fought in the Dragon War, killing dragons."

Mary stops, thinking about that statement for a second, and made a note of it. Not right now.

"So what happened when he tried to kill you?"

"We fought. I won."

There was definitely more there, but given his performance with the quintapeds, she wondered just how powerful this Garr person was. She didn't pry, though.

"And afterwards?"

"I lost control. I wanted to not be there, to just get away from that place. I- I blacked out, maybe? When I woke up, I was on that island."

Accidental magic? Accidental apparition all the way to another world? Hell, he was apparently a hereditary dragon animagus, why not?

"Ryu? Do you want anybody to know you're a dragon?"

He shook his head.

"Alright, then." She stood up, lit the fireplace with her wand, and threw a pinch of floo powder into it. "Amos Diggory, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"This is the DRC, Amos speaking. Ah, Mary, how are you?"

"Bloody wonderful."

"Is there a problem?" asked Amos.

"Two, actually. First, something hit the Quintaped preserve, around a dozen of the animals are dead. Second, I found a boy that I think performed an accidental apparition onto the island itself."

"Oh dear. Is the boy alright?"

"He's fine, Amos. I found him on the southern half of the island."

"Oh, good good- wait, did you say over a dozen of the quintapeds?"

Mary nodded.

"Merlin," he breathed. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I got there after the fact. I saw a few of them dead on the map, and portkeyed over. I found the boy near the portkey site, and then apparated to the northern half. I didn't see anything, so I just portkeyed back home rather than find out what happened on my own."

Amos muttered to himself a little more, before looking back at Mary.

"I'll start getting some people together, but I think we'll wait until morning. As to the boy... What's his name and how old is he?"

"Ryu, maybe ten or eleven."

"Right. Hold onto him for now, I'll talk with a few friends in the DMLE, see if we can just get him back home before Miss Hopkirk finds out, eh?"

Mary nodded.

"Alright, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

0x0x0x0

"Mary, are you home?" called a woman's voice, the door opening.

"She's at work," replied Ryu, sitting on the couch with a whetstone and his sword.

The woman was a little shorter than Mary, with the same straight red hair and mousy face.

"And you would be?"

"Ryu. And you?"

"Ah, Mary's sister Ashley. Is your hair actually blue?"

"Yes," said Ryu, staring at the edge of the sword.

"This is that whole magic thing, isn't it?"

Ryu, having spent two hours the night before wrapping his head around the statue of secrecy, nodded. He then spent the night sleeping on the couch, and expressed a sailor's lexicon of curse words when the Daily Prophet delivery owl woke him up.

"So she's on the MacBoon preserve?"

"MacBoon?" asked Ryu.

"Hairy thing with the five legs, apparently?"

"Quintaped?" asked Ryu.

"Yeah, that thing."

Ryu nodded.

Mary popped into existence in a cleared out space of the living room.

"Seriously, you did a lot of bloody damage," said Mary. "Oh, hey Ash."

"You forgot to call."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry Ash, I spent the entire morning shoulder deep in quintaped carcasses, the preserve's a mess, and I forgot to call you this morning, I'm sorry. Let me take a shower, then we'll go get some lunch, alright?"

"We taking Ryu here, as well?"

Mary sighed.

"It's alright. Go take a shower. You realize how bad you smell, right?"

"Magic can only do so much," replied Mary, heading into the back of the house.

"So... is that your sword?" asked Ashley, trying, hoping, to make some sort of conversation. The thing was huge, almost as tall as the boy.

Ryu nodded.

"Making sure it's sharp?"

"No. Seeing if the blade's damaged. I hit a quintaped with it, and the blade just bounced off it."

"How long have you had it?"

"I dunno. A month or two? It hasn't broken since I got it, and it's killed a lot of wildlife, and I nearly lost it in a magma serpent's eyeball, so I think it's lucky."

"Wildlife?"

Ryu looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

Ashley decided against asking about wildlife, until her brain caught up with the rest of the statement.

"Magma serpent? As in lava? As in, in a volcano?"

"Yeah."

"What were you doing in a volcano?" asked Mary, stepping into the room, dressed in plain clothes, rather than a robe.

"Getting to the other side," replied Ryu. Ashely chuckled, while Mary just looked confused.

"I want to try something," said Mary. She tapped her wand on Ryu's head, and his hair turned brown. "Excellent! Knew Wil would know."

"Wil?" asked Ashley.

"Wilhelmina, she's one of the other DRC people. Part-timer, but her and Hagrid are about the only other people willing to go shoulder deep into the carcass of a creature that big."  
"What kind of person names their daughter Wilhelmina?"  
"The sort of people whose last name is Grubbly-Plank," replied Mary.  
"Oh. So, learn anything important?"

"Beyond the fact that we still have no idea how they breed? No."

"Aw. Forever will there mating habits remain a mystery."

0x0x0x0

"So what else can you do she can't do?" asked Ashley.

Ryu shrugged, having scarfed down his lunch.

"Right now, I've got to talk with an Auror to find out what paperwork I have to deal with just for finding him."

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad?"

"Please, this is Ministry of Magic. Everything has to signed in triplicate and blood."

"Alright, fine, it can be that bad."

"Will I have to sign anything in blood?" asked Ryu.

"No idea. My boss said he'd talk with an auror friend of his, but God only knows when the Auror will stop by."

"So, basically, you two are stuck together?"

"Pretty much."

"And this Luna girl, she's really Xenophilius' daughter?"

"Apparently. Sharp as a tack. Not sure how together she is, but being raised in that household?"

"Eh, being raised on World Weekly News wasn't so bad for me," replied Ashley.

"Yes, but you started out effed in the head."

"If you say so. Ryu, you've been awfully quiet. Don't like people talking about you?"

"No. I just wish I was normal."

"Hey," said Mary. "You've got a gift, whether you like it or not. It's all a matter of how you look at it. And it looks like you're here to stay, so we'll figure out what to do soon enough, right?"

Mary paid for the meal, and they returned to Mary's house to find a cat sitting on Mary's front steps.

"Seriously?" asked Mary. "I mean, what now?"

The cat glared at her in response.

"I'm allowed to be glib," replied Mary, opening the door.

"What's going on?" asked Ashley. "Why are you talking with the cat?"

"Because the Deputy-Headmistress of Hogwarts wants to chat with me, but figures she can't do it until you've left the room, because she hasn't realized you're my sister."

"I suspected a family resemblance, but I wanted to be certain," replied a stern, black-haired woman dressed in elegant, flowing tartan robes.

"Oh, God, you're McGonagall!"

Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"She has nothing but embarrassing horror stories about you, I assure you," said Ashley.

"I am more than certain."

"So what now?" asked Mary.

Minerva reached into her robe, and pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Mary.

"I'm mildly curious how you managed to have a ten year old child," was all Minerva said.

Mary left eye twitched as she read the front of the envelope. Then she walked over to the fireplace, and threw in a pinch of powder.

"Amos Diggery, Department of Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures."

"DRC, this is Amos Diggory speaking, oh Mary, how are you?"

"Alright. Busy day, so far. Who did you talk to at the DMLE about Ryu?"

"Oh, I spoke with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Very nice fellow, said he'd talk with Dumbledore, see if he could find the records through the Hogwarts ledgers. Why?"

"Just wanted to know. Thank you, Amos. I'll owl in the report tomorrow. I was just about to floo over to Hogwarts now."

"Ah, to talk with Hagrid?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Thank Merlin, I was hoping not to have to wade through whatever report he managed to write. Right, well, have a good day."

The fire turned back to red, and Mary turned back to Minerva.

"I don't suppose we can chat with Headmaster Dumbledore, can we?"

The corner of Minerva's lips ticked upwards.

"I see you've managed to keep your temper in check."

"Oh, no, I'm just saving it for those who deserve it," replied Mary. "So is that a yes?"

"It is."

"Who wants to go to Hogwarts?" asked Mary, looking at Ashley.

"And I think this is where I get off the ride. Tell me how it all works out, alright Mary?"

"Yeah, you get to work. Ryu, we get to meet Albus Dumbledore."

Ryu nodded.

"Hogwart's Headmaster's Office," said Minerva, after throwing in a pinch of floo powder. She stepped into the fire, disappearing.

Mary sighed. Ashley gave her a hug.

"Good luck. Try not to scream at them to much."

"Not making promises," said Mary. "Go back to work. I'll fill you in tomorrow."

"See you then," said Ashley. "Hey, good luck Ryu. Maybe you'll go to school and do that whole normal thing."

"School?" asked Ryu, unsure of what it was.

Ashley gave a sad smile.

"Come on," said Mary. "I think we might be able to get some answers out of these people." She looked at her fireplace. "Bloody hate the floo," she muttered under her breath as she stepped up to the fire. "You first, I'll be right behind you."

Ryu nodded, and stepped into the fire. The sensation of spinning wasn't to terrible, and it was strange to walk past so many grills, and he stepped out into an equally strange office. Magical items of all sorts littered the bookshelves, walls, and counters of the entire space, numerous shelves were covered in books and tomes. A man with far to long a beard and oddly shaped glasses sat behind a desk more ornate that anything Ryu had ever seen. Mary stepped through the flames behind him.

"Headmaster," said Mary.

"Ah, Miss MacKenzie. It is certainly good to see you in much better times."

"Much the same. Can you explain this to me?" asked Mary, dropping the letter onto Dumbledore's desk. Minerva stood off to the side, watching the proceedings.

"It's a very simple reason, Miss MacKenzie. How many magical orphanages do you know of?"

Mary thought a moment.

"There aren't any," she stated.

"Correct. Why?"

She thought another moment.

"Purebloods always have a relative somewhere, if you go back far enough. Muggleborn can just be dumped in muggle orphanages, for better or worse."

"You have no idea how right you are," said Dumbledore. "Have you ever heard of a power to destroy the world?"

Ryu closed his eyes and slumped.

"What?" asked Mary. "No, I haven't..." She glanced at Ryu.

"Once," said Ryu.

"I presume you have this power?" asked Dumbledore.

Ryu nodded.

"Mary, Ryu, I know the weight of power on a mind so young is a terrible burden. To share that burden, is to lessen that burden. I will not ask to know what that power is. I know, however, that it is power, if Hagrid's comments on the Isle of Drear are not exaggeration."

"Albus, you can't seriously be suggesting this boy killed those Quintapeds," said Minerva.

"I am. You saw it, didn't you?" asked Dumbledore.

Mary nodded.

"As I have said, I won't ask what it is. All I ask is that you care for him. Every child needs a guardian and a mentor, someone to show them right and wrong."

"So you had me adopt him without even signing paperwork?"

"No," replied Albus. He tapped a lone sheet of parchment on his desk. "I did, however, fill out the paperwork for you."

Mary picked it up, stared at it, took a quill and corrected part of it, then placed it on the desk.

"You had my income wrong," she said. "I'll do it on two conditions."

"Name them. If they are within my power, I may grant them."

"First, I want to know the rest of that prophecy."

Dumbledore sighed, and smiled.

"Ever the reporter. I still remember that interview as a fond memory. Not the best questions, but you didn't, as it were, pull any punches. Both you and Miss Skeeter had that quality for hounding the truth. I'm glad that you kept it, even after deciding on a different profession. Do you still recall the first part of the prophecy?"

"Of course. '_The one to defeat the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies_.' It's still plenty vague, is all I'm saying."

"'_And the Dark Lord will face him, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and neither shall survive, but only one shall die. The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._'"

"I always said you could come back from defeat, and I'd always prayed I was wrong," said Mary.

"Many members of wizarding society have muttered much the same things," said Minerva.

"And your second condition?" asked Dumbledore.

"How did you know about the power to destroy the world?"

"Much the same way I knew of the defeat of the Dark Lord."

"Bloody fucking hell," said Mary.

Dumbledore nodded.

"What's a prophecy?" asked Ryu.

"A statement that will come to pass," said Dumbledore. "Whether anyone wants it to, or not. They are rare things, that only the greatest seers can say. Few can call upon their gift at will, and fewer still remember the results."

"So not Trelawney," muttered Mary.

"Sybill is a powerful seer, but not one powerful enough to remember her prophecies," answered Dumbledore diplomatically.

"I'll believe that when I see it," replied Mary.

"Does this mean I have to kill this Dark Lord?" asked Ryu.

"Would you?" asked Dumbledore.

"If I have to," replied Ryu.

"Then it is entirely your choice, Mister MacKenzie."

0x0x0x0

"Congratulations! You're legally a mother!"

Ryu sort of stared at Ashley as she gushed over Mary.

"Yes, yes, yes, you're going to make fun of me for a while yet, I know."

"So why did you agree?"

"Why do you think?" asked Mary.

"And you totally didn't ask for anything in return, did you?"

"Alright, maybe I did ask for a couple things, but they were just to satisfy my curiosity."

"Things I shouldn't know about?" asked Ashley.

"Just the promise of doom and gloom," said Mary. "You realize what this means, though, right?"

A gleam came to Ashley's eye.

"Shopping!" they cried in unison.

0x0x0x0

Ryu wasn't impressed by Diagon Alley. Wyndia was pretty similar. It was London itself that impressed him.

The city was huge! Ashely said it was over two million people, with buildings in the distance launching into the sky! The number of cars, the number of people! Certainly, the market at Wyndia had this many people in it, but to see this many block after block? Crowding the streets as far as the eye could see?

Sure, they were just humans, but there were so many of them!

Diagon Alley was still packed with people, but it was a familiar packed with people. Still only humans, but strangely dressed and with a familiar weirdness in every shop.

"Seriously, what's up with the robes?" asked Ashley. "I just don't get it."

"Tradition," supplied Mary. "Ryu, first thing on the list is?"

"Uniform," said Ryu, staring at the parchment in his hand. "Three sets of plain work robes, black, one plain pointed hat, one pair of protective gloves- dragon hide?"

"Different dragons," said Mary. "Not intelligent. Imagine really grumpy fire-breathing flying lizards. Hang on a second," said Mary. She walked up to a couple dressed in more sane clothing, but looked lost. Between them was a young girl who looked about ready to take off and inspect every last thing.

"Excuse me? This your first time in the alley?" asked Mary.

"Yes, yes it is," said the man. "Is it that obvious?"

"No, I just remember my first time in the alley," said Mary. "I'm Mary MacKenzie, this is Ryu."

"Ashley MacKenzie."

"Michael Granger," said the man.

"Ophelia. Are all of you witches and wizards?"

"No, just me and Ryu," said Mary. "Ashley's my sister and is along for the ride."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one that's a fish out of water," said Ophelia.

"And you?" asked Mary.

"Hermione," said the fizzy-haired girl. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased as punch, I'm sure. Come on, I'll give you a tour around the alley. Do you have wizarding money, or do you need to exchange some pounds?" asked Mary.

"We do need to exchange some, but we're not even sure how much we'll be looking at in total."

"Probably around twenty galleons total, but that's around two hundred and fifty pounds."

"Well, that's a fair bit less than we were expecting," said Ophelia. "But you're right, we do need to exchange some currency."

"Right, we'll hit the bank anyways, I need to get out some galleons for this trip, anyways."

As they walked through the alley, Hermione began asking questions about the various going-ons of the alley, and Mary tried to answer as best she could. She gave a pleading look at the girl's parents, and they just smiled. Ryu glanced about only every once in a while, when something or other caught his eye. Ashley started a conversation with Ophelia about what work they did, and when they both realized they were in the medical profession, they started sharing patient stories. Ryu couldn't keep track of it all, but it seemed like Ophelia worked with teeth, while Ashley dealt with a lot more.

Ryu cocked his head at the guard for the bank. He hadn't seen anything like these goblins before. He kept silent about the goblins back in Yraal, little imp-like things with large mouths. They stared at him, and he at them. Hermione was about to run up to one and ask them questions, when he grabbed her by the back of the shirt and pulled her back.

"What was that for?" she demanded.

"Never bother a grumpy person with a pike," said Ryu.

She glared at him, while Mary giggled. "He's right. Don't bother the goblins, or they might just stab you."

"We would never stab a customer," said the guard.

"Rita Skeeter," said Mary.

"She is not a customer of Gringotts," replied the guard with something that was between a sneer and a smile.

Mary laughed, and began explaining a fascinating rumor about a specific scar on Ms. Skeeter's right butt-cheek.

0x0x0x0

Robes were purchased without incident. Ashley was forced to explain what she knew of the wizarding banking system while Mary was forced to ride the cart to her vault.

While in Madam Malkin's, Mary took a seat, saying she needed a minute for the room to stop moving underneath her.

"It can't be that bad," said Ophelia.

"Imagine a roller coaster that just doesn't ever stop," said Mary. "It just goes and goes and goes, and you never know where its going or what its going to do, and its all in the dark, and the only thing that's keeping you alive is the scary evil little midget in front of you, who thinks its all bloody hilarious."

"There are children present!" said Ophelia.

"Sorry, the carts just don't agree with me."

Ashley moved up behind her and pattered her back, and began a litany of the ever pitying "there, there." Mary rolled her eyes.

Ryu finished first, Malkin's assistant still pinning Hermione's robes into the right spots, before tailoring them correctly.

Hermione was asking a number of questions of Malkin's assistant, and Ryu was ignoring everything, so Mary called Michael and Ophelia over.

"One thing I want to warn you about," said Mary. "When walking into any society, there's a bit of a bias towards the ones already in it."

"What, like in getting jobs and such?"

Mary frowned, and shook her head.

"Worse than that," said Mary. "About ten years ago, there was a whole war over it. A lot of folks on both sides of that war are still around, and a lot of their kids are around Hermione's age."

"Aren't you worried about Ryu?" asked Michael.

"I'm not worried he'll get hurt by a few stupid bigots. I'm worried about what he'll do to the stupid bigots. There's a lot of inbred bigotry in the wizarding world."

"And lot of inbreeding in general," said Ashley.

"Well, that too."

"Not everything's beautiful and rosy?" said Michael, getting her drift.

"It is pretty rose," said Mary. "My parents were regular folks, and let me tell you this: there's one flower, and a lot of thorns. But trust me when I say that flower is well worth it, even with all the shit I had to put up with right after the war. I'm telling you, every last bit of it is worth it. The things she'll be able to do," she looked at Hermione, asking about what spell was used to hem together the robes. "As long as you stand behind her, there's no stopping what she'll be able to do."

0x0x0x0

"It's not like its going to come to life and bite you," said Hermione.

Ryu was staring at the Peruvian vipertooth gloves he was wearing. He had been eyeing the chimera scale, but the cost was ludicrous, and the salesman said unless he wasn't planning on growing anymore, they wouldn't be worth it.

They'd already gotten most everything else on the list, all that really remained was a wand.

"This one's important, and that's why it's always last," said Mary, leading the Grangers up to Ollivander's. They'd already spent to much time in Flourish and Botts, and Ophelia had given in to more than a few of Hermione's demands towards reading material.

Mary smiled as Hermione walked into the shop, Ryu following behind her. His eyes immediately went to the door at the back, while Hermione's gazed at the rows upon rows upon rows of slim boxes arranged all around the entire shop. The door at the back opened as Michael and Ophelia stepped in behind Mary, crowding into the shop itself.

"Ah, Mary MacKenzie, 8-inch willow, hair from a rather unfriendly unicorn. Still in good shape?"

Mary gave a wave of her wand, glowing white butterflies fluttered for a few seconds, before fading from sight.

"Excellent, excellent, you seem a little young to have someone attending Hogwarts."

"He's not mine, but I took him under my wing."

"Good, good." inspected Ryu for a second, before nodding, and moving on.

"And you would be?"

"Hermione Granger."

"A muggleborn, eh? Very good, you're always much more interesting than the purebloods, so unpredictable what combination you'll arrive at. you must be her parents, it's so good to see new faces in the alley. Has Ms. MacKenzie shown you about well enough?"

"Yes, yes she has," said Ophelia. Michael was still a little bewildered, and Ashley just settled next to Mary.

"Mm, yes, yes, let's get started, shall we?" He pulled a tape measure form his pocket, and began to go through the motions, asking which arm was the wand arm. Mary took a step back, pulling Ashley with her, and standing near the window as he went to work. Hermione bombarded him with questions as he tried out different wands. He only half paid attention, explaining not so much the theory as the philosophy of wandmaking. It wasn't to long before he arrived at vine wood with a dragon heartstring core.

"And now, I suspect, a challenge," said Ollivander, the tape measure, already moving on its own, leaping from Hermione to Ryu. It started at his arm, and then moved on around his body.

"You're a swordsman, yes?" he asked, turning away.

Ryu nodded, the tape measure gauging the distance between his chin and collarbone.

"Suspected as much, not very common these days. Scars on your hands and fingers a dead giveaway. Phoenix and alder, seven inches," he said, handing the wand to Ryu. He gave it a wave, and found nothing. Ollivander continued picking wands.

Ollivander placed a second wand, "hawthorn and the heart sting of a very angry Ukranian Ironbelly," in Ryu's hand.

"Feels cold," said Ryu, giving it a useless wave.

"Cold?" asked Ollivander. "Curious, very curious," he murmured, snapping the wand out of Ryu's hand, placing it back in its box. He stared, his eyes unfocused, deep in thought. There's a smile on his face, as he began to try wand after wand.

"Certainly a challenge, just as I suspected."

The dragon heartstrings got colder and colder, until one actually formed frost on Ryu's fingers.

Ollivander took his handkerchief, and wiped the water from the wand, before returning it to its box.

"Such a violent reaction to dragon heartstring. Perhaps it's a matter of finding the right one?" Ollivander's eyes once more become unfocused, and a stool walked itself over to a corner of the room. He stood on its top step, reaching up on his toes, and took a single lone box from a dusty corner. A wave of his own wand, and the layer of dust vanished.

Green motes of light danced throughout the room, and warmth flooded Ryu's hand as he gave the wand an experimental wave.

"Very curious," stated Ollivander. "Ash and dragon heart string, 10 inches. Not often those two get put together, considered bad luck, but they both came from strange places, so it seemed right to put them together. My great great great great grandfather bought the ash many a year before from what he recorded as a very strange woman. Hasn't been put to use before or after I made that wand."

"A very strange woman?" asked Hermione.

"Hm, yes. That's all he wrote of the purchase in the ledgers. We have to keep accurate ledgers for ministry purposes, but that purchase," he drifted off again. "Very strange. Unsurprising given the quality of the material. Even four hundred years old, the wood was still of very good quality for wandmaking."

"Four hundred?" asked Ryu.

"Yes, four hundred. I could check the ledger to be sure, but I keep as accurate a record up here as in the book," said Ollivander, tapping his head.

"And the heartstring?" asked Hermione.

"Gringotts. One of the guard dragons. Most of them die of old age, the hearts so old they don't provide good material. The dragon went mad about a year ago. They asked a high price, but the quality was unquestionable."

Mary handed over 9 galleons for the wand, while Michael gave 7 for Hermione's.

"Seriously, what the hell?" asked Mary, once outside Ollivander's. "I get the unicorn that kicked a virgin, and you get the lizard that went mad. Is the MacKenzie name forever doomed to have weird wand stories?"

0x0x0x0

"How do I do the hair charm?"

"Hm, oh, for when you're at school?"

Ryu nodded.

"First cancel it with a finite incantatem," a short burst, and Ryu's hair was blue again.

"Your hair is blue?" asked Hermione. "Is that normal for wizards?"

"Nope. Never seen blue hair before, unless there was a charm. Should be going the other way, really. Ryu's weird, though. And you know I mean that in the best possible way, right? Trust me, weird isn't horrible. Right, so hair coloring charm."

She showed Ryu the wand movement and incantation, turning his hair a plain brown.

Ryu nodded, then tapped his wand against his head, the finite incantatem removing the spell, then reapplying the spell.

Mary winced, then sighed.

"What?" asked Ryu.

"This is one of those rules you don't know, but you're not supposed to cast spells outside of school until you turn 17."

"Oh, right, the trace!" said Hermione.

"The trace?" asked Ryu.

"It's a spell on all of England," said Mary. "Big power hog, took quite a few wizards to cast, but it's supposedly meant for your safety. It also finds all the muggleborn children, because of accidental magic." Mary pauses a moment. "If you're born within the last seventeen years, Madame Hopkirk over at the DMLE sends out an owl saying you can either quit it or face a hearing to see if you keep your wand."

Ryu stared at his wand.

"So why give me the wand before school?"

"Remember Ash's common sense saying?"

Ryu nodded, easily finding understanding within the zen koan that is the wizarding world.

"Wait, is it born within the last seventeen years?" asked Hermione.

"Yep. That wording costs more, magically, but it gets around the wording 'being seventeen years of age'. You can get around the second one with a simple aging potion. The first one, though, is a tad more difficult. So now we get to wait for Madame Hopkirk's wonderful, wonderful owl."

"Speaking from experience?" asked Ophelia.

"A little bit," said Mary, a sad smile on her face. She shook her head.

"So how long until the letter arrives?" asked Hermione.

"Probably an hour or two, if you want to wait around for it."

Hermione said she wanted to, and began, once more, to ask about magical creatures, having found out Mary worked with them.

0x0x0x0

"The letter never came," said Mary, watching Ryu practice the two-handed forms with his sword in the early morning light.

He grunted in response, taking another stance and going through its motions.

"Hopkirk's pretty good about getting those letters out, but I don't want to chance it. No magic unless its for self-defense."

Ryu grunted again.

"I still don't understand how he can use that thing," said Ashley, handing a cup of coffee to Mary.

"Practice," replied Ryu. "Just wish I had someone to spar with."

"Hagrid might know someone," said Mary. "Hurry and finish up, I want to eat some breakfast before I drag you lot up to the Forbidden Forest."

"Is it actually called the Forbidden Forest?" asked Ashley.

"The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Magical Creatures and Nature Preserve," replied Mary. "I think there's some guy's name in there also, Bartibus the Barmy or something, but that's most of it."

"Christ," said Ashley, shaking her head.

0x0x0x0

The Portkey was uneventful, and took them to the forest's visitor's center. Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank was talking with Hagrid about the Unicorns.

"Wilhemina, Hagrid, this is Ophelia and Michael Granger, and their daughter Hermione."

"Pleased to meet you," said Wilhemina.

"Good to meet you," said Hagrid, bending over a little to give everyone a handshake. "You'd be Ryu?" he asked Ryu.

Ryu nodded, unfazed.

"Yer in good hands," said Hagrid, clapping him on the back. "And yer Ashley?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," said Ashley, looking up.

"She's said a fair bit about you," said Hagrid.

"All of it good, I hope?" asked Ashley.

Hagrid laughed, knowing better than to say anything at all, and lead them out into the yard outside the building.

"They're beautiful!" said Hermione, rushing past, Ryu rolling his eyes.

"Seen unicorns before?" asked Hagrid.

"No, but I've heard of them," replied Ryu. Huge and silver, Hermione approached them easily. One of them looked down at her, and sniffed her face. Ryu stayed back, looking at them.

"Not interested?" asked Hagrid, smiling.

"How'd you bring them down here?" asked Ryu, changing the subject.

"There's ways of getting them to like ya. This lot knows me, and the centaurs help me keep track of 'em." Ryu watched Ashley and Ophelia approach the unicorns, Michael standing back, but clearly interested. "Mary said there was something else you wanted to ask me?"

"Know anything about sword fighting?"

"Whose asking?" asked Hagrid.

"I am. I can practice all day, and it'll help, but I need someone to go against."

"I'm a little big, don't ya think?"

"Not much smaller than my last teacher," said Ryu.

Hagrid looked down at him, and frowned.

"Mary, I'm gonna show Ryu somethin, I'll be right back."

Mary waved them off, but still stood away from the Unicorns, eying one towards the back. Hagrid lead Ryu away from the Unicorns, and down a path into the forest itself.

"So why'd you learn?" asked Hagrid.

"Had to," replied Ryu. They walked on in silence, coming out into a clearing. Hagrid dug through his coat, and pulled out a black whistle. He blew a single note on it, and Ryu winced at the sound. Hagrid eyed him a moment, then looked back into the clearing. Slowly but surely, a group of horses stepped out into the clearing. Black and spindly, with leathery bat wings, Ryu stepped up to them. One of them, a stallion sniffed his hand, then ignored him, looking at Hagrid.

"Ye can see em, eh?"

Ryu nodded.

"What are they?"

"Thestrals. Most consider it unlucky to see 'em. It just means you've seen death, is all. Kid your age shouldn't be seeing em, it's not right." Hagrid sighed. "I've got a hut on the grounds at Hogwarts. Talk to me then, and I'll see what I can teach ya, or at least keep ye in shape."

"Thank you," said Ryu, petting one of the Thestral's on its head. It leaned down and licked his face, revealing its fangs, then went up to Hagrid. Hagrid pulled a few chunks of steak from somewhere in his coat, and tossed them out into the herd, letting them tear apart the meat.

They returned soon enough, Mary walking over to Ryu and asking if everything was squared away. Ryu nodded.

"Good. Hagrid's a great guy. A little thick-headed at times, but he's a gentle giant. He show you the Thestrals?"

Ryu nodded again.

"Did you see them?" asked Mary.

Ryu nodded again.

Mary frowned, then watched Hermione ask Grubbly-Plank another question about the Unicorns.

"You're to young to be old and jaded. Hogwarts will be good for you, teach you how to have fun."

0x0x0x0

Ryu stared back out at the station itself, Mary and Ashley finally free of his presence for a while yet. He knew Mary wanted him to stay. He wasn't about to turn down some sense of stability, of sanity, and of normalcy. The owl was perched on a luggage rack, a beautiful snowy owl that Mary had picked out, so that Hermione and Ryu could write home.

"Ryu?" asked Hermione, opening the carriage door. "Do you know a spell that could find a toad?"

Ryu pulled out his wand, thinking over the question, then recalled one of the spells Mary used far to often when she lost her car keys.

"Accio Toad," said Ryu, waving his wand. He knew he was putting to much power into it, but didn't care. This was the first piece of magic he'd cast in a month.

"Are you sure that's a spell?" asked Hermione after a moment.

Ryu glared at her, then noticed a small, pudgy boy directly behind Hermione.

"Who is he?" Ryu asked.

"His name is Neville, it's his toad."

Ryu nodded in understanding, then watched the toad drift right by Hermione's head, then drop into Ryu's lap.

"This yours?" asked Ryu, picking up the toad.

The boy nodded.

"I didn't think anyone could cast that, that young," said Neville.

"I watch my guardian use it all the time to find her keys," replied Ryu.

Neville smiled, then saw the snowy white owl sitting on the luggage rack over their heads.

"Is that yours?" he asked, clutching his toad.

"What, Jude?" asked Hermione. "No, Ryu's guardian bought her for Ryu, mostly to make sure he writes her. She said she was amazed she even saw the owl."

"You're an orphan, too?" asked Neville.

Ryu nodded.

"She also bought it so you can write home as well, Hermione."

"Well obviously, but don't tell my parents, that. I'm hoping to get something for myself at some point."

Ryu rolled his eyes, and Hermione took a seat. Ryu motioned for Neville to sit down with them, and he nodded gratefully.

They whiled away the hours of the train ride with Neville teaching them Exploding Snap, and the occasional chat about their parents. Neville had been raised by his grandmother, and was concerned about actually being sorted.

"Well, if you're here, then you'll be sorted," said Ryu. "Mary didn't tell me what would happen, but she did say nobody's even been killed by the sorting."

Neville and Hermione both looked pale when Ryu said that.

"Do you know what actually happens?" asked Neville.

Ryu shrugged.

"I didn't ask."

"I should have," mumbled Hermione.

"We'll be fine," said Ryu.

"How come you aren't worried about this?" asked Neville.

"What's the point of worrying?" asked Ryu. "You face it, or you run. We're here, so we're going to face it."

Neville stared at Ryu.

"You're not afraid, are you?"

Ryu thought about it for a minute.

"I guess," he shrugged. "I don't let it get to me, anymore."

Hermione had guessed something was different about Ryu. She'd never seen a sword before, and here was someone who owned one and looked to be proficient in it. He had blue hair, but Mary said she'd never met anyone with blue hair before. That, and the scars. Over the summer, Ryu had worn some lighter, short-sleeved shirts, and Hermione had been rather surprised to see the differences in skin color on his arms. Pale white strips of skin cut through the deep tan of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. She knew they were scars. She once scuffed her elbow pretty badly when she was younger, and that skin stayed a pearly white. Not that the rest of her tanned given how little she was outside, but it was a pearlier white.

There were so many of them, on him. They criss-crossed his arms, and she had even seen a big, nasty one on his chest when they went swimming, once. And his hands, too. Across the back of them, even on his fingers.

In essence, there was a mystery. Her interest was piqued. Ryu, however, wasn't very talkative.

0x0x0x0

Ryu had expected Hermione to go to Ravenclaw, but instead was sent to Gryffindor. Neville was also sent to Gryffindor, and Ryu found it was his turn to go under the hat.

"I suppose I must have some firsts in my existence," said the hat in a quiet voice. "Although, it's not like there's any doubt where you're going. The things you've been forced to do, I'm amazed you've turned out so well. You'll find most everybody else has had a much easier time of it than you have."

"So I've been told," thought Ryu.

"You should listen to them. You'll do great and terrible things, child, but you'll do them for others, not for yourself. You'll do them with bravery and courage, and you'll do them with your friends in GRYFFINDOR!"

Ryu took off the hat, and placed it on the chair, and took a seat next to Hermione and Neville. They waited as a brother of the Prefect got sorted into Gryffindor, and then a final student was sorted into Slytherin.

Dumbledore gave his few opening words, which Ryu deemed better to ignore than ask questions about, and then found a massive plate of food that smelled much better than the slop Mary ordered. Ryu, very quickly, found himself selecting a wide variety of food, almost of all of it he'd never even heard of.

He only half-listened to the conversations around him, Hermione talking with Percy, while Neville talked with some of the others about learning they were magical. The discussion trailed on through dessert, before the food disappeared from the tables, and Dumbledore once more took center stage.

Ryu ignored the warning about the Forbidden Forest. Mary had given him fair warning about what was actually in the forest that could kill him. He had also heard the warning about Filch and Ms. Norris. Quidditch he also ignored.

The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, on the other hand, perked up his interest, mostly so that he knew where it was, and how to avoid it. He wanted school to be nice and quiet, like after killing the Nue.

0x0x0x0

Navigating the school, Ryu learned, was a challenge in and of itself. There were moving staircases, disappearing staircases, secret passages, doors that pretended to be walls, and walls that pretended to be doors. Hallways didn't always lead were they lead the day before, and Ryu was more than certain that one of the second floor hallways was longer than the school itself. The paintings and ghosts weren't always as helpful as they could be, and Ryu quickly learned that no help was to be found in Peeves.

Herbology seemed fairly boring, although Hermione and Neville seemed to get into a quiet discussion about it. Ron Weasley seemed a little bit of a prat, but Ryu mostly ignored him.

Ryu found Charms interesting, simply because it was the closest to what he was used to dealing with.

McGonagall terrified Neville, but she had Hermione interested in the subject due to Dumbledore, and Ryu interested because of her own self-transformation. An Animagus, Hermione called it. He also smiled when he received Hagrid's letter asking him to come by after Potions.

Potions itself was a lesson in cruelty, Ryu found. It became readily apparent to Ryu that Snape didn't care for the Gryffindor half of the class, and immensely preferred the Slytherin half, when he started firing questions at his captive audience about potions ingredients. Ryu lucked out on his question, "Where would I find a bezoar?"

"Stomach of a goat," replied Ryu.

"And how would you go about retrieving it?"

"Well, first you kill the goat. If you're planning on eating the goat, then you hang the animal from a tree and slit the throat to let out the blood. Cut open the belly, get the intestines out of the way, and then find the lumpy stomach. That's the one with the bezoar in it."

"The lumpy stomach?" asked Snape, eyebrow raised.

Ryu nodded.

"It's a grass-eater. There's four."

"Fascinating, I'm certain," replied Snape sarcastically. "And what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know. The only education I got was in how to fix myself," said Ryu.

"I clearly see it was severely lacking," replied Professor Snape, and moved on.

Ryu was silent in his seat.

"He's always like that," said Ron after class. The red-headed boy had sat next to him in Potions. "My brothers've always said he's awful," he added. Ryu's silence unnerved him, so he moved on to talk with one of the other Gryffindor boys, Seamus.

They visited Hagrid afterwards. Ryu immediately avoided the rock cakes, recognizing them for what they were, but didn't warn Hermione or Neville about them. They could figure it out on their own, he felt.

"Snape fell into a bad crowd, back when he was a student," said Hagrid. "James Potter didn't help the matter much, either," he added, then sighed. "They was bad times, bad times. The Dark Lord and evil were about a fair bit back then. Not so much anymore, though. Dark Lord's follower's children, though, they're around and about. Should warn you, there. That reminds me, Ryu, when did you want to practice with your pigsticker?"

"When do you get up?"

"I start puttering around about dawn."

"Then I'll be down a little after dawn."

Hagrid nodded.

"Pigsticker?" asked Neville.

"Sword," said Hermione. "Honestly, you're here to learn magic, and you still want to practice with that thing?"

Ryu nodded.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. Hagrid gave a chuckle and shooed them off back to the school.

0x0x0x0

School passed slowly, but Ryu found it interesting. Charms were easiest, Transfiguration was difficult. Quirrell, Ryu decided, wasn't going to teach him anything. Potions wasn't any better, but Ashley, in one of letters, asked what "crawled up his ass and died?" Ryu decided it was best not to ask that question of the surly teacher.

Broom riding was rather simple. Ryu stared at the rickety broom at his feet, watched the annoying blonde-haired kid float around on it, and decided.

"No thanks. I like my feet on the ground."

Madam Hooch tried to argue with him into at least trying it, but Ryu refused.

"If I'm going to fly, I'll have wings to do it with."

And with that, the conversation was over.

It was some holiday, Halloween Ryu learned, that Neville first saw Ryu trudge back from his morning practice with Hagrid. Ryu found it was difficult, unpredictable what Hagrid would do. Hagrid had a massive war-axe, and was terrifying in a fight. Garr, Ryu learned, was predictable, rigid in how he moved and acted, relying on pure brute force for his attacks to succeed.

Hagrid could, but didn't.

Hagrid, Ryu learned, fought in the last war. He didn't fight wizards. He fought werewolves, vampires, trolls, and other dark creatures Voldemort had brought under his wing. His training was random, and learned much the way Ryu had learned: trial and error paid for in blood.

"Merlin," murmured Neville, as Ryu entered the dorm.

"What?" asked Ryu, unslinging his sword.

"I thought Hagrid was kidding about a sword."

Ryu shrugged, as he put it back in his trunk, and then locked the trunk with a tap of his wand.

"Did you learn a locking charm just for that?"

"It's dangerous," replied Ryu, pealing off his gloves. "Of course I lock it."

"What's going on?" grumbled Ron from his bunk. "To early to be awake."

"Then go back to sleep. Breakfast isn't for an hour," said Ryu, grabbing a change of clothes and heading for the shower.

During charms, Neville sat with Ryu, still asking about the sword and Hagrid. Hermione was forced to take a seat with Ron, who rolled his eyes.

The levitation charm Hermione got first, but Ryu watched her casting, and managed to get it after her. He then promptly tried to convince Neville how to do, as Hermione spent the entire period correcting Ron's pronunciation.

"She's a nightmare, honestly," said Ron to Seamus, just inside of Hermione's earshot. Hermione took off, while Ryu growled. "I think she heard you, mate," said Seamus.

"So?" said Ron. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Flitwick took a single, lone point from Ryu for decking Ron. Seamus and Dean took Ron to the infirmary for his broken nose, while Ryu and Neville left. They didn't see her or Ron for the rest of the day, and learned from Lavender that Hermione was in a girls lavatory, crying her eyes out. Dean said that Ryu hadn't just broken Ron's nose, but also cracked his skull, too. Madam Pomphrey wrote it off as a bit of hot-headed accidental magic, and was keeping Ron until dinner.

At dinner, Ryu still didn't see Hermione, and decided to ask Percy if he could go find her, when Professor Quirrell came running in.

"Troll. In the dungeons. Thought you'd ought to know."

He promptly collapsed. After Dumbledore regained control of the school, he ordered all the students back to the dormitories.

"Neville, tell Percy I'm going to get Hermione," said Ryu, and veered off in the confusion of getting past some of the Hufflepuff students.

"Er, right," said Neville, glancing at the imposing Prefect that lead the first years back to the common room. Ryu took off at a slow jog, not bothering with waiting for Neville. He saw Snape run past, headed for the third floor, but ignored him. Ryu found the right hallway fast enough, and then the smell hit him.

Down the hall and towering, Ryu stared at the back of the troll, and then watched it duck into a room down the hall. Ryu sighed as he ran up to the door.

It was a girl's lavatory, of course.

He kicked open the door, not slowing down, as Hermione screamed. He ignored the wand in his hand. It was a stick, and this was a monster. One did not use a stick to kill a monster. He could feel the two threads, the two voices bubble up from the back of his mind from that place he never went to unless it was necessary. They tied themselves together, threading themselves through his mind.

He jumped, and his talons ripped into the trolls arm as it swung around, some part of its tiny brain realizing something was behind it. The club tore apart a few sinks before it hit Ryu in the side, breaking a few ribs and one of his useless stubby arms. It didn't matter. He couldn't breath on the troll without hurting Hermione. Instead, he circled, getting between the troll and her, giving the troll his bad side. Ryu jumped in on the troll's back swing, talons tearing and burning through the chest, down to the ribs as Ryu went for the head. He couldn't get at the neck, the muscles just bulge outward from the base of the head straight into the shoulders, but fangs find good purchase on the head and Ryu tried wrenching from side to side, going for a quick, clean break.

The troll fell over into the stalls, but not before bringing it's club down on Ryu. It didn't hurt much, but it knocked him off. The club was proving a problem, so Ryu jumped across the troll, trapped in the wreckage of the stalls, and bite the forearm. Talons ripped through the muscle and skin of the upper arm like a chainsaw through butter, scraping along the bone all the way to the shoulder. The troll actually screamed in pain. Ryu dropped the forearm, letting it crash to the ground, then kicked back against the troll's skull, talons smashing into the head as it lifted out of the broken stalls.

_How is it still not dead?_ Ryu stomped back onto the burnt and torn chest, the troll trying to breath, it's jaw torn, broken, blackened, and dislocated. Ryu snorted, a stabbing pain down his left side, and did something he hated doing.

He bit right into the troll's throat, and even with the searing pain of his side, pulled up with both legs, tearing it all out in a spray of blood and nastiness. Ryu spit the chunk of flesh in the general direction of the door, the troll coughing and gurgling and sputtering, the blood draining out of it's body. It kept trying to move as Ryu jumped off it's chest, another lance of pain stabbed into his side, but it didn't matter. It was done. The troll was just to stupid to figure it all out.

The change came just as quickly, and Ryu went to one of the remaining taps and started washing the taste out of his mouth. There was a reason he hated biting things.

After spitting out water until it was clear, he walked over to Hermione. She backed herself into a corner, and tried to put herself even further into that corner. Her eyes flicked between Ryu and the deceased troll, trying to comprehend what just happened.

"You alright?" asked Ryu, kneeling down.

"Um, uh, how?"

"Magic," said Ryu.

Hermione glared at him, then stared past him at the troll.

"Only thing it's good for," said Ryu. "Come on, let's get back to the common room."

The door slammed open, and McGonagall stepped in.

"Mister MacKen- what happened?" she asked, shocked by the troll.

Ryu was silent, as Snape limped in behind her.

"Nevermind, I can guess. I assume Miss Granger's presence is related to the youngest Mr. Weasley's broken nose?"

Ryu remained silent. McGonagall sighed, while Hermione stared at Ryu.

"And what made you think it was safe to leave the others?"

"Quirrel said the troll was in the dungeons." Ryu stared at the troll itself. "This is a long way from the dungeons."

Both Professors were silent at this remark.

"Your leg alright, Professor Snape?" asked Ryu.

"My leg is none of your concern," replied Snape. "Our concern is what you did to the troll."

"I thought that was obvious," said Ryu. "It's dead, isn't it?" Ryu kicked it in the foot to be sure. He glanced back at Snape's leg, then looked at the pooling blood near his foot, then up at his paler than usual face. Ryu lifted his hand and waved it, green motes of light spreading from his finger tips, flooding around Snape's leg.

"That- was that also the power, Mr. MacKenzie?"

"No. I've just always been decent with healing magic. Sir, you still need rest and water to get back your lost blood. I wouldn't go looking to lose anymore, either."

"I will keep that in mind, MacKenzie," replied Snape, both weary and wary. "Get back to your common room."

Ryu nodded, and helped Hermione to her feet. The walked out of the lavatory, and started making their way to the common room.

"Did you change into a dragon?" she asked.

"A small one, according to Mary."

"She knows?"

"Her and Ashley. Nobody else."

"What was Professor McGonagall saying about Ron?"

"Hm? Oh, I punched him after Flitwick's class."

"What'd you do that for?" asked Hermione.

"He said something nasty about one of my friends." Ryu shrugged. "He shouldn't have been so surprised."

"Who, Neville?" asked Hermione.

"No, you," said Ryu. Hermione stopped, while Ryu walked on a few paces before turning around. "What?"

"I- no, it's nothing," said Hermione, catching up. "You shouldn't have punched him."

"Then he shouldn't have said anything."

Hermione frowned, and decided against arguing whether or not Ryu should or shouldn't have punched someone about her, and instead focused on something infinitely more important.

"That wandless healing spell," started Hermione.

"Yes?"

"Can you teach it to me?"

Ryu sighed.

0x0x0x0

"Had to clean up the mess you left in the bathroom," said Hagrid, sweat making the thin shirt he was wearing stick to the massive barrel of his chest. "That wasn't with that pigsticker of yours, was it?"

"No."

"Yer just full of surprises, aren't cha?" asked Hagrid, smiling. "Well, no matter. Jus if you pick a fight with fluffy, try ta be nice to him, alright?"

"Fluffy?"

"Been in that 3rd floor hallway yet?"

"No. I've been avoiding it," replied Ryu. He planted his sword in the ground, leaning on it. "I figure if it's certain death, then I'll stay away from it for once."

"For once?" asked Hagrid.

"We once trained a guy so he could go into this monster filled lighthouse and fix it. Except the other guy who was going to fix the lighthouse found out, and they got in a fight. Both of them figured, whoever fixed the lighthouse, would marry the shipping guildmaster's daughter." Ryu rolled his eyes. "So after they beat each other stupid, we go and fix the lighthouse for them, and fight this stupidly large monster that some fairies found to stop people from fixing it."

"Wait, fairies?"

"Yeah, there village was on the other side of mountain the lighthouse was built on. So they turned off the lighthouse, because this angry dolphin was threatening to eat them if they didn't. Don't ask, I don't know. So then we had to go kill the damn dolphin, and wait a few more days for the boat to show up. Guess what?"

"Didn't show up?" asked Hagrid, chuckling.

"Of course not. We were waiting for the boat, because the pass around this volcano had been blocked by an eruption. So the local guild leader informs us, if we're in so much of a hurry, there's a way THROUGH the volcano."

Hagrid was laughing at this point.

"So what do we run into, besides lava, noxious gases, and whatever magical wildlife that decided to kill us? Magma serpents. Huge, size of that west tower that nobody uses. And, of course, there's two of them." Ryu doesn't mention the crazy old man who was with them.

Ryu sighed, watching Hagrid try to hold himself up with the haft of the axe, and instead collapsing to the ground, laughing at him.

"It's not that funny. I nearly lost this sword to one of those damn things."

Hagrid sat up, staring at Ryu, still chuckling.

"Hagrid, you're bleeding."

"Hm?" grunted Hagrid, then glanced at his hand. He'd caught the blade of the axe against it, and tore open his palm. "Nothing Madam Pomphrey can't fix up."

"No, I'll get it," said Ryu, "Don't need to waste your time with something that simple." He waved his hand, green motes of light flooding over Hagrid's hand, sealing the wound. He then took his wand and used a spray of water to wash away the blood.

"Wandless magic, eh?" asked Hagrid.

"Yes. Hermione's bothering me to teach her. Why, you want to learn?"

"Can't. Had my wand snapped."

"Didn't learn to do it with a wand."

Hagrid looked at him, narrowing his eyes.

"Then where did you learn?"

"My parents taught me, I think. Healing magic's always come easy to me. They taught me to write, too, maybe. I don't remember that well."

"It might be something interesting, as long as you don't mention it to many people."

0x0x0x0

Ryu's eyes tried to stay on individual words in the history of magic text. Instead, they wandered over the page, failing to decipher the letters into any sense or order. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and tried again, hoping the boring words would calm his nerves enough so that he could sleep without nightmares.

Instead, two people dropped into the couch on either side of him.

"So George, we heard something rather interesting."

"Indeed so, Fred, indeed we did."

"And we hoped to learn about that something from the very source."

"So true, Fred. So very true. So what's this about a troll, eh?"

"Well, besides those two miniatures that flank Malfoy where-so-ever he may go."

"What about it?" asked Ryu. He looked at each of the boys in turn. Both were red-heads, Ron's older brothers.

"We understand-" said the one on his right.

"-that you-" said the one on his left, seamlessly.

"-were there-"

"-for what happened?"

"It threatened Hermione. I killed it," said Ryu, then went back to his book.

"Ah."

"We understand it was in most-"

"-/spectacular/ fashion?"

"There's nothing spectacular about fighting for you life," said Ryu.

"Humble, eh?"

"No. If you ever get to do or die, you'll understand."

"You've been there, eh?" asked one of the twins.

Ryu pulled up the sleeves of his robes, scars running the length of his arms. He dropped the sleeves back down, while the twins were both silent. He picked up his book and left, while the twins whispered to each other.

0x0x0x0

The magic lessons were slow going. Ryu recalled half-remembered lessons, different methods of focus, but he didn't know what the purpose of any given lesson was.

_Nina or Momo would know these things,_ he thought to himself.

He sighed, recalling at least how Mygas taught him a few of the offensive spells he learned.

Mygas said magic was two things. First and foremost, it was focus on an intent. Pretty incantations were for cheap sorcerers who were showing off for a crowd. Focus and intent were for people who lived and died by their skills. Second, in order to have the focus, in order to form the intent, there needed to be an emotional release, a feeling that caused what you wanted to happen, to happen.

Hermione said it sounded quite a bit like forced accidental magic.

"Analyze later, results first," said Ryu. Then he cut his palm with his knife. "Focus your emotions, hold the intent in your mind, and release."

Hermione stared at his hand for a solid minute, getting angrier and angrier that it wasn't healing before Ryu felt some warmth on his palm. Then it became warmer and warmer, until it started feeling hot.

"Hermione? Stop."

She sighed, releasing the breath she was holding in.

"What now?"

"You're trying to light my hand on fire."

"I am?" she asked.

"You're getting angry about it, right? Take that, and try to light that twig over there on fire, instead."

Hermione glared at him, then at the twig.

"Hagrid? Your turn."

Hagrid looked at Ryu's hand, focused on it, and felt that the hand wasn't right, that it should be healed, and felt bad that it was cut open, how it should be whole instead. He took that bad feeling, and pushed it outwards into Ryu's hand.

Greenish light covered Ryu's pond. He used his wipe to wash away the blood, and found a nice neat line where the wound was.

"Very good."

"ARGH!" shouted Hermoine, seeing Hagrid get it before her, and then a column of flame leapt up from the twig, nearly two feet high.

"I don't think you needed to get that angry with the twig, Hermione."

The column of flame leapt a little higher.

"I don't think you'll be very good at healing magic," said Ryu.

"But- But, I want to be good at healing magic!" said Hermione, glaring at the fire as it jumped a little higher, nearly as tall as she was.

Ryu stared at the column of flame as Hermione tried to bring it down, but only rise higher.

"'Ermione, when you were trying to fix Ryu's hand, what were you thinking?" asked Hagrid.

"I wanted to heal his hand," said Hermione.

"Why did you want to fix his hand? Cause you wanted to learn, or cause you wanted to fix his hand?"

Hermione tried to answer, but stopped herself, realizing the answer.

Ryu focused himself, frost engulfing the twig, and cutting out the flame.

"I was thinking," began Hagrid, "about Ryu saying it's all about intent. When I fixed Ryu's hand, I was thinking that wounds are wrong, and I wanted to make it right."

"So I can't do it?" asked Hermione.

"No, no, no," said Hagrid. "I been around so many wounds, it's second nature for me to fix 'em. You just need to work at it more than I do. Me, I don't think I could light anything on fire."

Hermione nodded, and went back to the twig, and started trying to melt the ice on it.

"Thank you," whispered Ryu to Hagrid.

0x0x0x0

Ron was frosty to Ryu, and occasionally picked on Neville, when he wasn't picking a fight with one of the Slytherin boys, Draco Malfoy.

Snape held Ryu in a different sort of disdain in the classroom, mostly by ignoring him rather than actively berating him.

Quirrell, Ryu found, was another matter. Ryu had thought it safe to get Hermione, since the Troll was in the dungeons. Which meant Quirrell was either incompetent (which was proving more and more likely as the class wore on) or a liar. Ryu could only think of McNeil, the bumbling idiot who was backed by Balio and Sunder. Quirrell was an idiot, for certain, but some sort of malicious idiot.

Ryu and Hermione had gotten into the third floor hallway just to visit "Fluffy" as Hagrid had called him.

Ryu decided someone was backing Quirrell. Who was not much of a question.

0x0x0x0

"Will you two quit it?" asked Hermione.

Ron and Draco (with two rather ugly-looking boys behind him) both glanced at Hermione, before rolling their eyes, and going back to arguing.

"Draco, why do you come over here?" asked Ryu.

"Why do you care?" asked Draco.

"Because if you're not here, I don't have to listen to Ron," said Ryu. "And I don't understand why you come over here, because then you have to listen to Ron, too."

Ron sputtered something, while Draco smiled.

"Hah, not even your own house likes you, Weasel-boy."

"No, Dean and Seamus like him," said Ryu. "I think. Hey, Dean, Seamus, do you like Ron?"

There were nods further down the table.

"So we aren't _all_ annoyed by him," said Ryu.

"A pity," said Draco, still smirking. "To answer your question, it's a family rivalry."

"Oh, well, why bother?"

"It's a family rivalry," said Ron. "How can we not bother?"

Ryu glanced at Hermione, and realized she was already cradling her head with the stupidity of it.

"So you hate each other, because your parents say you should hate each other?"

"Well, that and his family are pureblood bigots," said Ron.

"No, we just understand the inherent nobility of our position in society, while Weasel-boy debases himself by surrounding himself with muggleborns and halfbloods. Wait, aren't you the boy who killed the troll?"

"Yes."

"How did you do that?" asked Draco.

"I thought that was rather obvious. Magic."

"Well yes of course, but what spells?"

"Fire and cutters," said Ryu as he thought about that night for the dozenth time. He'd seen Mary demonstrate a basic cutter, and he'd tried it earlier in the year. If he had done that much damage to the troll, he'd have magically exhausted himse-

After the change, he felt fine.

"Really? Which spells?" asked Draco. "Incindeo and Diffindo? Or different ones?"

"Those two," said Ryu. He hadn't been drained, mentally and magically, from the change. He felt fine afterwards. There was a toll from changing, from taking the power and forcing it to the fore. It felt more like the fall to protect Nina than any other time he changed. This time, though, he hadn't become a whelp. He'd grown to full-size (well, as long as one didn't count a mammoth).

"Something the matter?" asked Hermione, knowing he was both lying and thinking of something else.

"No, just realized something. We need to talk with McGonagall. Draco, it was interesting to meet you. I'd talk more about the troll, but you appear to have two miniatures ones with you, so I wouldn't want to bore you. I leave Ronald and your family rivalry in your capable hands."

Draco smirked as Ryu stood up and dragged Hermione up to the high table, while Percy attempted to glare at both Ryu and Draco at the same time.

"Excuse me, Professor?" asked Ryu, Hermione standing behind him wondering what was going on.

"Yes, Mr. MacKenzie?" asked McGonagall, having watched the entire exchange with interest.

"I had some questions relating to your ability to change into a cat."

"Animagus transformation," whispered Hermione.

"Can they wait until class?" asked McGonagall.

"Yes, but they also relate to our conversation from before the school year."

McGonagall paused, then nodded.

"I have a free period after tomorrow's class. Stay after, then."

0x0x0x0

"Why are you dragging me along for this, again?" asked Hermione, packing her books into her bag.

"Because you're my friend," said Ryu, shouldering his own and walking up to McGonagall's desk.

"Oh," said Hermione. She shouldered her own, and quickly caught up with Ryu.

"Now, what is it that you wanted me ask me?"

"The power has to do with a transformation. Normally, it's magically taxing, but when I did it rescue Hermione, it wasn't. I felt fine, afterwards."

"Can I see this transformation?" asked McGonagall.

Ryu looked at the room for a moment.

"We need a bigger classroom."

"That can be arranged. Come with me." She lead them out of the classroom and into another, nearby one which was much larger.

"This is where I take the NEWT-level students, and have them perform large object transfiguration. Is this a suitable space?"

Ryu nodded and went out to the center of the room. He felt for the two threads that he'd used to defend Hermione, and tugged at them, pulling them to the fore, and felt the power flood through him.

Both Hermione and McGonagall jumped back from the blaze of light and power as Ryu took on his different form.

"My word," said McGonagall as she looked at Ryu. She waved her wand, sending a diagnostic spell or three at him. "And you're in control?"

Ryu nodded his head.

With the next spell, Ryu glowed slightly red for a moment, and McGonagall frowned.

"It's not an animagus transformation. And with that release of power. It's a most impressive transformation."

Ryu changed back and slumped his shoulders.

"It takes a lot out of me to do it that way, and then to keep maintaining it."

"That's understandable, and a very impressive form," said McGonagall.

"The thing is, is when I took that form to protect Hermione, it didn't drain me magically. It just came, and once I was done, it went."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Yes, but the last time I only changed into a whelp."

"A whelp?" asked McGonagall.

"A young dragon," supplied Hermione.

"Perhaps because you were younger?" asked McGonagall

"No, it only happened six months ago, probably in May. Granted, it was when I first found out about the power, but I can still change into a whelp."

"You can still change into a whelp? Can you show us" asked McGonagall.

"Definitely. I've been meaning to try something, as well."

He walked back into the center of the room, and tugged at three different threads. They wove and twisted together, and he felt something different about them, how the voices came to the fore and spoke as one, rather than as echoes of each other. The burst of power and light was just as great, but the results were much... smaller.

"This is a whelp?" asked McGonagall, inspecting the little dragon that was barely any larger than Ryu.

Ryu nodded, his head bobbing quickly. He stopped, then walked forward, tripping over himself.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione.

Ryu jumped up to his feet, bouncing a foot into the air, and nodding as he landed. He looked down as he bounced again, this time putting himself two feet into the air.

"What are you doing?" asked McGonagall.

Ryu squatted down, and jumped, really jumped, and launched himself fifteen feet straight up, coming down as light as could be on his feet. Ryu jumped about the room, launching himself off the walls and bookcases, sending papers flying before settling back into the center of the room and changing back.

"What was that?" asked Hermione.

"I wanted to try something," said Ryu. "There's one other form that I can vary-"

"You can vary the forms?" asked McGonagall.

"I can add a fire, ice, or lightening element, along with defense and magic. Then there's the three I used to create that whelp, the miracle, thorn, and reverse?" Ryu asked himself. "I guess those are as good a name as any. All three of them created that one. The miracle on it's own, though. Hermione, give me your hand."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Trust me. Professor, go to the wall. This is going to be big."

"Why am I taking your hand, though?" asked Hermione, taking Ryu's hand.

"This isn't dangerous, is it?" asked McGonagall.

"For the room, maybe. But not for Hermione."

McGonagall transfigured a desk into a solid shield and put a clearview charm to it as once more magic and light gathered Ryu. Hermione could physically feel the power, the raw might that ran through Ryu as the change occurred around her. She felt like she was floating in mid-air as the ground fell away and the world lost focus for a moment. She didn't feel taller, but she knew she was looking down at McGonagall as she stepped from behind her transfigured barricade. Hermione felt a tugging on her back as Ryu stepped forward, and felt a tickling sensation on her back. She could feel the cold stone beneath her feet (there were four) but she couldn't move them. She wasn't trapped, so much as suspended. She could feel Ryu (both the body around her and the mind with her), feel the power that this form gave him, and wondered how he hadn't just flattened the school with it.

She could hear McGonagall shout, something about the ceiling?

Ryu shifted back, floating sensation peeled away, and her feet touched the ground as easily as she'd been lifted from it.

"Wow," said Hermione. "That was- wow." She looked at Ryu, who was staring up.

"Didn't think the spines were that tall," was all he said.

Hermione looked up, and saw the massive gouges in the ceiling.

0x0x0x0

"I didn't expect to be that tall!" said Ryu, sitting across from McGonagall in her office.

"You knew the size of the form?"

"Of course I did. I've used it before! To magical exhaustion, even!"

"You have?" asked McGonagall.

"My previous teacher wanted me to see how long I could maintain it, to gauge my limits. Granted, he probably wanted to know so he'd have a good idea how long he'd have to survive it..." said Ryu, trailing off in thought. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Did you have to fight your previous teacher?" asked McGonagall.

Ryu nodded.

"I'm sorry, Ryu. To fight against someone you've known and have come to trust, there was a reason I could never fight in the war against the Dark Lord. I had taught so many of the fighters involved it broke my heart to face them in battle even once. I think much of that war destroyed Albus, to feel as though each death, on either side, was a personal failure on his part."

Hermione sat, utterly silent in her seat, the frankness of Minerva talking with Ryu disturbed her. She'd spoken with the Professor in private several times, and each time she was her usual stern, professional self. Here, it was something else entirely. And Ryu's previous teacher had tried to kill him? Why? Was that where he got the scar on his chest from?

"I never wanted to kill people," murmured Ryu.

Hermione's eyes widened. He'd killed people? She remembered how quickly he had torn apart the troll, it couldn't have taken more than half a minute. But he'd killed _people_?

"And that's the most important thing to remember, Ryu," said McGonagall, her stern demeanor cracking, the sadness in her face and voice evident to even Hermione. "You should never want to kill someone. I do not doubt that you've had to, but you should never want to."

Ryu nodded, eyes still closed. Hermione realized he was trying not to cry. She had no idea what to do. She looked at McGonagall, for one of the few times in her life, unsure of what to do. McGonagall motioned her head to the side, indicating, at a guess, for Hermione to go to Ryu. She stood up, still quite unsure of anything, and grabbed Ryu and pulled him into a hug.

Ryu still didn't cry, holding it all in, but everyone felt better about it afterwards.

0x0x0x0

The winter holidays were fast approaching, and Hermione was camping out in the library to keep reading everything she could before she had to head home for a few weeks.

"We could convince Mary to take you to the alley, if you wanted," said Ryu, trying anything he could to go out into the snow.

"But it's the library!" said Hermione, trying to whisper but failing, even after repeated glares from Madam Pince.

Ryu sighed, and glanced at the books Hermione was reading.

Dragons. Of course.

"You could ask me, you know," said Ryu.

Hermione looked up from her book.

"I- I didn't want to pry," said Hermione, then immediately went back to her book, and didn't see Ryu's smile.

"We can talk now, or talk over winter break."

"Winter break. I still want to read all of this, and I can't very well do that while talking to you, now can I?"

Ryu snorted.

"Alright, you have fun with that," said Ryu, leaving the library. He went back to the common room, book bag in hand. He knew someone was behind him going up the corridor to the common room, but ignored them on purpose. Then he felt the hand on his shoulder after stepping into the common room.

Ryu didn't even think as he planted his opposite elbow into the person's chest. He vaguely heard the gasp, but spun and punched the person again in the stomach and backed away pulling his knife before he realized where he was. One of the Weasley twins was kneeling on the floor clutching his stomach, coughing.

"Don't sneak up on me, next time," said Ryu.

"Fred, you alright?" asked, theoretically, George.

"Felt like a dozen bludgers to the gut," moaned the one on the floor.

"What are you two idiots doing?" asked Percy, crossing the common room.

"Being beaten up by a firstie," moaned Fred.

"I'm sure you did something to deserve it. Ryu, right? Next time, aim lower."

Ryu nodded, understanding.

Percy walked away, back to some of the other students who were attempting to study.

"So Ryu," said the one who wasn't still on the floor, clutching his chest, "we have a few more questions for you."

Ryu glared at him, heading for his dorm room.

"I didn't think firsties could punch that hard," said one of the twins. Ryu hadn't bothered figuring out which was which. "We're both pretty used to taking Bludger hits," he added as Ryu began rummaging through his trunk. "I didn't think anything could drop him like that."

Ryu pulled his sword and cleaning kit out of the his trunk and dropped into his bunk.

"Er, you going to do that the entire time?"

"Need to calm down," said Ryu, pulling the sword form the scabbard and laying it on his bed. He began inspecting the blade.

"Right. So a few of the upper forms were pretty interested in the gouges in the ceiling of the NEWT Transfiguration room, but none of them connected that to you and the bookworm-"

"Her name's Hermione," muttered Ryu as he began wiping down the blade.

"You and Hermione chatting with McGonagall not a day before."

"That's a stab in the dark," said Ryu.

"Figuring out who's pranked you is all about stabbing in the dark. Granted, we don't actually do much in the way of literal stabbing, as others may do."

"Your twin's lucky I caught up with my reflexes," said Ryu.

"You're lucky perfert prefect Percy didn't catch the knife."

"Or maybe he was hoping I'd stab one of you just for the hell of it," said Ryu.

"Nah, he's to much of a stickler for the rules."

"So what do you actually want?"

"We want to know how you did it."

Ryu stared at the sword for a minute, before placing the sword on his bed. He walked directly up to the twin and stared him straight in the eyes.

Ryu then kneed him in the balls, then sat back down to finish checking his sword.

"Ow," was all the twin said after a few minutes of lying on the floor in the fetal position. Ryu walked back over to the twin.

"Keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and I will break it. Understood?"

"Clearly," whispered the twin.

"Good," said Ryu. He bent over, lifted the twin over his shoulder, and carried him into the common room. He promptly dropped him on a couch next to the other twin.

"What happened?" asked Percy, more for his own curiosity than out of concern.

"Knee to the bludgers," replied the twin.

Percy nodded.

"Are all of your family idiots?" asked Ryu.

"No, both of my older brothers have respectable employment," said Percy. "My sister, well, she won't be here until next year. She is rather close with Ron, so I do worry about her."

"Well then, we'll have to make sure she gets in with a good sort of friends," said Ryu.

"Don't corrupt her to much, please," said Percy, walking away.

0x0x0x0

Ryu stared at the broom at his feet, then at Madame Hooch.

"I like my feet on the ground," said Ryu, for what must have been the twentieth time.

"Either get on the broom, or fail. I'm not asking for much. I'm just asking for you to go through that course over there."

He looked down at the broom, then at the course. Very simple, just lift up the broom, make a few turns, go over five foot hurdle, then land where he started.

"Up," he said. The broom jumped into his hand. He got on the broom, and gently lifted off the ground. He went through the course.

Slowly.

Draco Malfoy took forty-eight seconds the first time through. Ryu took a little over three minutes.

He handed the broom back to Madam Hooch, who glared at him as he turned and left.

"The boy can fly better than that," she muttered and grumbled to himself.

"MacKenzie!" shouted Draco. "Scared of flying?"

"The only way I'll ever fly again, Draco, is if I grow wings!"

Draco smiled and laughed at him, wheeling about and going back to a game of aerial tag. As Ryu entered the castle, he felt the twinge of magic and leapt to the side, watching it pass by. Some sort of jinx, he guessed, as he ducked behind one of the suits of armor that lined the hallway.

"Didn't think firsties could dodge that fast," said a voice.

"They learn all sorts of things, don't they?" said a very similar voice.

The twins. What did they want, now?

He couldn't use any of this wandless magic without killing someone. What wand magic could he use? He knew they taught leg-lockers and jelly-hands jinxes and that stupid levitation charm. Nothing disabling or painful. He sighed, and decided to see if he could talk his way out.

"What do you idiots want?" shouted Ryu, hoping Madam Pince would hear.

"Now, see, how you brushed us off was a little shirty, and we still had a few questions for you."

"And, you haven't answered us, so we figured we'd make sure you didn't have a choice about answering."

Ryu felt, rather than heard, another spell hit the armor he was hiding behind. He heard it creak and begin to move. Ryu backed away from it as it began to stomp forward.

Ryu frowned, but gathered magic in his hands, projecting it into a ball just as Mygas taught him. It took a full second, that Ryu half-spent dodging the one spell Fred (or George) sent his way. They weren't fighters. They expected to surprise their target, and hit them with a few spells, then get away.

Ryu launched the ball straight into the armor. The armor exploded, shrapnel spraying down the corridor, pinging off walls. Ryu healed a cut on his leg and on his face, as he walked up to the twins. One of them was screaming in pain from a piece of steel embedded in his thigh, a shield charm protecting his torso, even as chunks of serrated armor were half-embeded in the magic. The other twin was unconscious, his nose broken and half his face starting to bruise. Ryu's booted foot smashed the awake twin's nose, knocking him unconscious. He ripped the shrapnel out the boy's thigh, and then healed it.

"Idiots," muttered Ryu, walking away form the scene of the crime before any teachers did arrive.

0x0x0x0

**Author's Notes: **This is another story that's fairly old. I've got no idea _how_ old at this point. Maybe a couple of years? Given how it's written, I'd guess maybe around the same time I was writing Monstrous? It needed some clean up and re-working to fix some issues I've always had with it. I think I fixed most of them, at least.

I've always been fascinated with Breath of Fire III. It was one of the original PSX games I ever purchased (right behind Final Fantasy 7 and Megaman X4), and I occasionally break it out for the random play through. Sinking ~50 hours into that game is a fair amount of fun, although I only ever figured out the fishing system with the help of Gamefaqs. I think they re-released it for the PSP? Not rightly sure.

**Formatting Issues Notes: **Every time I uploaded it, it became massive Wall o' Text (Thanks FFN!). I even tried converting it to several different formats and uploading it. The farthest I managed? Getting it as a CENTERED Wall o' Text. Apparently, the Copy-And-Paste upload feature on FFN works best with Microsoft Office. Thankfully I have a copy of Office 2007 lying around in a VM for just such stupidities.

**Status of Something Wicked This Way Comes:** I finished 49 earlier this week. It's a character driven chapter, so of course I spent far too much time banging my head against it. Chapter 50 will be the last chapter. It will contain the final climatic battles with Voldemort, just so you're all aware. I've started it, and once it is done, I'll post it.

Once that's done, I'll figure out the ending to _Elsewhere, but Not Elsewhen_, and then hide for a time while I put together _Jamie Evans & The Lonely Queen_. Or maybe I'll work on my personal writing. We'll see, now won't we?


	15. Damaged

Damaged

Severus Snape was many things. Potions Master. Spy. Double agent. Murderer. Professor. Godfather. Even, on occasion, teacher.

One thing he knew, above all other things, was that he was not a _friend_. He considered the playing children outside the orphanage for a long moment, remembering another child playing on a swingset, before pushing those feelings aside. That way lead only to the pain and torment, the _failure_ he had set aside a number of years before. He turned, looking at the well-kept building, and traveled past the children and up the stairs, wondering which one of them was the child he was retrieving.

Severus was dressed as a muggle as he approached the school. He worn a fine black suit, and even took the time to take care of his hair. As a Slytherin, he understood appearance was everything. In the potions dungeons, his greasy hair represented his skill of his work. In the muggle world, well, he had to make this distinction by taking care of his appearance. A glamour charm on his mouth hid his crooked and blackened teeth, although there was very little he could do for his sallow, yellowed skin.

The matron of the orphanage, Miss Darcy, was obviously a woman married to her profession. She spoke endlessly of how studious and well-mannered the young man she was leading Severus to, and he wondered why he was bothering. It already seemed obvious that the boy would be Filius'. One more studious bookworm muggleborn.

He sighed internally, thinking of another studious bookworm muggleborn. His faced kept it's blank, emotionless composure as he followed the matron. She seemed to recognize something in him, either way. Was his own childhood that transparent to the elderly woman? Were the abuses and horrors he had suffered by his father that apparent? He pushed it all away, and instead thanked the matron, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a quiet boy's voice.

"Mister Timothy Evans?" asked Severus, opening the door, and finding a boy with unkept black hair sitting at a desk, reading a book. Definite Ravenclaw material.

"That would be me," replied the boy. His head shifted a little, enough to see me out of his peripheral vision, but not enough to look at Severus directly.

"My name is Professor Severus Snape. I come from a school for gifted boys and girls," Severus began, recalling the rehearsed speech McGonagall gave him, alongside a few talking points.

"What sort of school?"

Of course the boy asks _that_ question.

"Mister Evans, have you ever had something unusual happen to you?"

Timothy Evans turns the rest of the way, facing Severus. Severus didn't even blink at the scars. He'd seen worse, and on younger children at that. Scaring covered the right half of his face, burn scaring if he'd have any guess. His right eye was milky white, likely destroyed by whatever accident had claimed that side of his face. Given the boy was wearing long sleeves, it likely extended to the rest of his body. His right hand was gloved, as well. He recalled some joke by a muggleborn about a singer, but doubted the boy was a fan.

This did not faze Severus in the slightest.

No, what fazed Severus was a left eye the color of the killing curse. An eye he recognized the moment he saw it, one that could only belong to one woman, and thus, one child.

"Mister Evans, what do you know of your parents?" asked Severus, staring into the boy's green eye.

"My parents," spat the boy, "were drunks who died in an auto accident. They left me to my aunt and uncle, who also, thankfully, died in a car accident."

"Thankfully?" asked Severus.

"Timothy Evans isn't my birth name," said the boy. "It's my maternal grandfather's name. I don't know my actual name. My aunt and uncle called me _freak_ or _boy_. When they weren't locking me in a cupboard under the stairs, at least. So what about this school of yours?"

The casual disregard of his history made Severus annoyed. Then again, if he had been raised by _Tuney_ of all people, he could understand it. Combined with his casual hatred of his past, well, Severus could empathize with the boy on that, at least.

"Have you ever had anything strange occur? Perhaps something you wanted to happen, happen, as though it were a miracle?" asked Severus.

Timothy stared at him long and hard, before shifting in his chair. He wiggled his right foot.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

Timothy reached down, and pulled up his right pant leg, to reveal a scratched and dented bar of aluminum.

"From the accident," said Timothy, wiggling his foot again. "The joint should give, but I shouldn't be able to move it."

"Impressive, Mister Evans," replied Severus. He pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the book on the desk. A bookmark leapt into it, and the book itself lifted off the desk and returned to its place on a nearby shelf.

"Magic?" asked Timothy, his one good eye on the wand.

"Yes, Mister Evans. I will explain to you, something, right now. You have a choice to make, one that will determine the course of your life. I knew who your parents were, Mister Evans. I can tell you that it was not their choice, that placed you with... Petunia Dursley, was it?"

Timothy nodded, considering Severus with a cold eye.

"Petunia was a horrible child, and I imagine she became an equally horrible adult. Allow me to tell you history, Mister Evans. We are wizards. We have magic. Our children, should we ever spawn any, would have magic as well. Your father, the arrogant bastard that he was, had magical parents stretching back any number of generations. Occasionally, a witch or wizard is born of parents who have no magic, who have never had magic. People without magic are muggles. Those born of them are, obviously, muggleborn. Your mother was such a witch. A foolish man, several decades ago, decided to insure that no muggleborn would enter the wizarding world by murdering all of the muggleborn, and killing halfbloods such as yourself. He was backed by purebloods.

"He murdered your parents, and when he attempted to murder you he failed. Something your mother did, something in giving her life for yours, some magic she performed caused him, instead, to be destroyed. In so doing, you became a Hero. You became the Boy-Who-Lived, because the ignorant masses refused to believe that a muggleborn could not stop a Dark Lord."

Timothy Evans stared for a long moment.

"If I'm a hero, why was I put with that bitch?"

"Because Albus Dumbledore is a simpleton at the best of times. He believes in the best of people. He assumed, rather stupidly, that your Aunt was of similar disposition to your mother. Your mother was one of the kindest and nicest people I knew, before I made the mistake of losing her friendship. Albus left you on your Aunt's doorstep, and expected her to care for you as her own."

The emotionless mask that Timothy had on his face was all Severus needed to see, to know and understand the horror that the boy had faced.

"The name given unto you by your mother and father, is Harry James Potter. Your parents were James Charlus Potter, and Lily Marie Potter, nee Evans. If you so chose, you would be the most famous child in England, and your injuries would result in the downfall of one it's greatest leaders. Or, you could be Timothy Evans, beholden to no one, and able to go as you please."

**Author's Note: **It's one of those "Snape is Harry's mentor" stories. I never thought of a good direction for it, though. One of the major things I've come across in that field, is that, well, all of the Snape stories have Snape turning into some sort of happy, wonderful, well-adjusted human being (and generally the same happens to Harry, as well). Severus and Harry are fundamentally broken individuals. I think it'd be an interesting exploration of them, to try and make them less broken. I think one of the major things that prevent Harry from any sort of healing is his fame. The constant hounding from the outside world causes him to turn himself inwards, while projecting a mask outwards.


	16. Harry Potter of Mars

**Harry Potter of Mars**

Two short and silly ideas, but I think I'd really like to write the first one.

**Harry Potter and the War of the Worlds**

When Harry had wished upon a falling star for something interesting to happen, he hadn't meant for _this_ to happen.

Sure, it started out simple. A giant object falling from the heavens, crashing into the park nearby. Harry had to hurriedly explain to Vernon that _No, Wizards had never been to space, and likely didn't understand the concept._ Vernon didn't believe this until the news said that the cylinders were falling all over England, and that there were reports of some landing in France and Germany as well. When the US news reported that there were cylinders falling outside of Washington DC and New York, Vernon finally agreed that this bit of weirdness was entirely unrelated to Harry's sort of weirdness.

The police cordoned it off, just in time for the back of the object to unscrew, and for a three-legged robot to step out.

And then the screaming and the dying and the running started.

One normal summer. That was all Harry asked for. Was it really too much?

**Harry Potter is Doomed**

Harry suspected he'd always been fascinated with outer space because it would mean he was as far away from the Dursleys as was humanly possible. He'd first heard of it when the Challenger exploded, and Vernon didn't yell at him about watching the telly since it was normal news.

He knew he didn't have the educational background to go anywhere near being an astronaut, not with graduating Hogwarts on his resume.

He'd only spent 6 months with Ginny before they both realized it wasn't anything past young love. She preferred a far more active, driven lifestyle than he did. She liked parties, she liked socializing. Harry didn't. Couldn't stand the adulation, the screaming crowds, the endless balls and parties.

He got sick of it and left.

There's very few options for an 18 year old man with an education that stopped at 10. So he joined the army.

He had a distingushed career, served in both Iraq and Afghanistan, and by the time he was 35, he realized something very disturbing.

He'd stopped aging.

He applied for leave, and immediately went to Hermione.

He really had stopped aging. They both put it up to being the Master of Death, and decided they needed to figure out just what to do about it. The answer, it seemed, was fairly simple, and one that Wizards had invented around the same time as the Statute of Secrecy. There was a specific Notice-Me-Not charm that prevented muggles from realizing just how old someone was. It was a simple matter of turning the charm into an enchantment, and he returned to the muggle world. He mustered out of the army, and decided to try a few different jobs for a while.

He started with landscaping, moved on to being a chef, and for a little while was even a computer coder. He liked how little human interaction he had to do as a coder, but the job was too tedious for his liking, and he moved on to other lines of work. His favorite was being an auto mechanic. Fixing and repairing things was a joy to him, even if he hated people.

During that time, he watched as Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron, and everyone else he remembered grew old. They always contacted him, called him up as they were on their death beds, and he was always there when they died. He wondered if Death was waiting for him, waiting for his arrival before taking his family.

He was never as close to their children, as he was to them, though.

He was 150 when the Union Aerospace Corporation stated that it was building a base on Mars. They had a plentiful supply of technicians, but he doubted he'd pass the screening for those positions anyways. But they were always recruiting for their Marine division, and those Marines had a good chance of going into Space.

The training was grueling, but Harry didn't mind. When he was first deployed to a Space Station, it took all of his effort and will to not smile the entire time. And when he was deployed to Mars?

Well. He remembered Spirit and Curiosity. He watched as Curiosity was dropped by a crane onto the surface of Mars in a Mess Hall in Afghanistan.

Sure, he had to spend a week or two on a stuffy shuttle with an annoying suit and his personal body guard, but who cared? He was going to _Mars_.

Naturally, everything _literally_ went to Hell as soon as he arrived.

**Author's Notes: **I'll get around to an actual _Harry Potter of Mars_ story as soon as I get around to reading _John Carter of Mars_.


	17. Unrest in the House of Light

**Unrest in the House of Light**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own things.

0x0x0x0

"Mister Potter."

"Lucius," replied Harry, ignoring the well-appointed drawing room, and wondering if there was some sort of safe under the carpet.

"You have your meeting, Mister Potter. What is it that you want from me?"

"There's a problem in the muggle world, and I'm worried about it spilling over into the magical."

"You're worried about this?"

"Well, me, Hermione, a number of other muggleborn who can see the writing on the wall."

"This isn't about that 'youtube' thing that had the obliviators worried, is it?"

"No. This is actually dangerous."

"Oh, good," said Lucius, rolling his eyes. "Let's hear it, Potter."

"Right. I'm going to use an analogy for this, but all of this is with muggle mechanics. Suppose you build a golem loyal to you."

"Alright. You have a golem."

"It cast a few basic curses, flame, freezing, explosive, and can survive a few explosive curses before you break it, but it's still a golem."

"Fine, fine."

"Suppose that golem can build other golems, just like itself."

That drew Lucius to a halt, and he raised an eyebrow.

"It would be an impressive feat of magic."

"Suppose those golems then built a building called a factory, that did nothing but build more of those golems, say twenty or thirty a day."

"You could have an army in a month or two. Dangerous, but not unstoppable."

"And if you used that army to build a larger factory, one that churned out hundreds of golems a day, and used those golems to build more factories and more factories?"

Lucius poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it.

"Loyal to one person?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"How bad is it?"

"Ireland and Scotland have already fallen, and the golems are marching towards London now. Iceland and Greenland have gone completely dark to the muggles, and there's fighting in Norway and Finland as we speak. America and Europe are sending troops into England, but they have no idea where the factories are and these things are completely different from anything anybody's ever fought before. The weapons they have are straight out of muggle fiction, and they don't have the ability to keep up. The muggles are losing, and losing badly."

"So another lunatic, this time a muggle one," said Lucius, sinking into his wingback chair. "We have to fight, don't we?"

"It's looking that way. At the very least, they'll have to figure out a different way of getting the kids out of Scotland, seeing as all the rails have been ripped up."

"And what is this lunatic's name?" asked Lucius as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"Wily."

**Author's Notes: **This is what happens when you listen to _The Protomen_ while mulling over how to work on fics. I feel that Dr. Albert Wily is the perfect enemy for the Wizarding World. Both of them are completely batshit insane, and both of them work from a background so devoid of logic they're perfect for each other.

Think about it. Wizard's method of point-to-point communication? Throw this powder in that fire, and then _stick your face into it._ Wily's top soldiers? Well, there's this guy who throws _a pair of scissors attached to his head_, and then there's the cute eskimo, and then there's the guy who's head is _on fire_. I'm sorry, the sheer absurdity of the opposing forces would make this to be absolutely amazing. It doesn't even need the possibility of Doctor Light and Megaman to be amazing, and depending on how Megaman is used, will just make it even better.

As to other stories, Elsewhere/Elsewhen hates me with a fiery vengeance and passion. Jamie Evans Part Deux is slow going, and I'll start posting it once I'm halfway done. When that'll be is entirely up in the air.


End file.
